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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 

Mrs*  Edwin  Grabhom 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

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http://www.archive.org/details/danceofdeathOObierrich 


The 

Dance  of  Death. 


^?S3  MEtKv?4 


Entered  according  lo  Act  of  Confess,  in  the  year  1877.  by  GEORGE  N.  'i  HOMAS, 
in  the  Office-  of  the  Librarian  of  Cong^ress.  at  Washingfton,  D.  C 


p 


J„, 


ANCE    OF     JeATH 


BY 


William    I^erman 


San  Francisco  : 

Henry  Kellkr  c^  Co.,  543  Clay  Street. 

1877. 


"Wilt  thou  bring  fine  gold  for  a  payment 

For  sins  on  this  wise  ? 
For  the  glittering  of  raiment 

And  the  shining  of  eyes, 
For  the  painting  of  faces 

And  the  sundering  of  trust, 
For  the  sins  of  thine  high  places 

And  delight  of  thy  lust?" 


*'  Not  with  fine  gold  for  a  payment, 

But  with  coin  of  sighs, 
But  with  rending  of  raiment 

And  with  weeping  of  eyes, 
But  with  shame  of  stricken  faces 

And  with  strewing  of  dust, 
For  the  sin  of  stately  places 

And  lordship  of  lust/' 

Swinburne. 


PREFACE. 


HE  writer  of  these  pages  is  not 
foolish  enough  to  suppose  that 
he  can  escape  strong  and  bit- 
ter condemnation  for  his  utterances. 
On  this  score  he  is  not  disposed  to  be 
greatly  troubled;  and  for  these  reasons: 
Firstly — he  feels  that  he  is  performing 
a  dtity;  secondly — he  is  certain  that  his 
sentiments  will  be  endorsed  by  hundreds 
upon  whose  opinion  he  sets  great  value; 
thirdly — he  relieves  his  mind  of  a  bur- 
den that  has  oppressed  it  for  many 
years;  and  fourthly — as  is  evident  upon 


8  Preface, 

the  face  of  these  pages — he  is  no  pro- 
fessed litterateur,  who  can  be  starved 
by  adverse  criticism.  Nevertheless  he 
would  be  apostate  to  his  self-appointed 
mission  if  he  invited  censure  by  un- 
seemly defiance  of  those  who  must  read 
and  pass  judgment  upon  his  work.  While, 
therefore,  he  does  not  desire  to  invoke 
the  leiiiency  of  the  professional  critic  or 
the  casual  reader,  he  does  desire  to 
justify  the  position  he  has  taken  as  far 
as  may  be  consistent  with  good  taste. 

It  will  doubtless  be  asserted  by  many: 
That  the  writer  is  a  ''bigoted  parson," 
whose  puritanical  and  illiberal  ideas  con- 
cerning matters  of  which  he  has  no  per- 
sonal experience  belong  to  an  age  that  is 
happily  passed.  On  the  contrary,  he  is 
a  man  of  the  world,  who  has  mixed 
much  in  society  both  in  the  old  world 


Preface,  9 

and  the  new,  and  who  knows  whereof 
he  affirms. 

That  he  Is,  for  some  reason,  unable  to 
partake  of  the  amusement  he  condemns, 
and  is  therefore  jealous  of  those  more 
fortunate  than  himself.  Wrong  again. 
He  has  drunk  deeply  of  the  cup  he 
warns  others  to  avoid;  and  has  better 
opportunities  than  the  generality  of  men 
to  continue  the  draught  if  he  found  it 
to  his  taste. 

That  he  publishes  from  motives  of 
private  malice.  Private  malice — no. 
Malice  of  a  certain  kind,  yes.  Malice 
against  those  who  should  know  better 
than  to  abuse  the  rights  of  hospitality 
by  making  a  bawdy-house  of  their  host's 
dwelling. 

But  the  principal  objection  will  doubt- 
less   refer    to  the  plain   language  used. 


lo  Preface. 

My  excuse,  if  indeed  excuse  be  needed 
for  saying  just  what  I  mean,  is,  that  it  is 
impossible  to  clothe  in  delicate  terms 
the  intolerable  nastiness  which  I  ex- 
pose, and  at  the  same  time  to  press  the 
truth  home  to  those  who  are  most  in 
need  of  it;  I  might  as  well  talk  to  the 
winds  as  veil  my  -ideas  in  swee-t  phrases 
when  addressing  people  who  it  seems 
cannot  descry  the  presence  of  corruption 
until  it  is  held  in  all  its  putridity  under 
their  very  nostrils. 

Finally,  concerning  the  prudence  and 
advisability  of  such  a  publication,  I  have 
only  to  say  that  I  have  consulted 
many  leading  divines  and  principals 
of  educational  institutions,  all  of  whom 
agree  that  the  subject  must  be  dealt 
with  plainly,  and  assure  me  that  its 
importance  demands  more  than  ordinary 


Preface.  1 1 

treatment — that  it  is  a  foeman  worthy  of 
the  sharpest  steel ;  for,  say  they :  To 
repeat  the  tame  generalities  uttered  from 
the  pulpit,  or  the  quiet  tone  of  disappro- 
bation adopted  by  the  press,  would  be 
to  accord  to  the  advocates  of  this  evil  a 
power  which  they  do  not  possess,  and 
to  proclaim  a  weakness  of  its  opponents 
which  the  facts  will  not  justify. 

I  have  therefore  spoken  plainly  and 
to  the  purpose,  that  those  who  run — or 
waltz — may  read. 

But  there  remains  yet  something  to 
be  said,  which  is  more  necessary  to  my 
own  peace  of  mind,  and  to  that  of  many 
of  my  readers,  than  all  that  has  gone 
before.  So  important  is  it,  indeed,  that 
what  I  am  about  to  say  should  be 
distinctly  understood  by  all  those  whose 
criticism   I  value,  and  whose  feelings  I 


1 2  Preface, 

respect,  that  I  almost  hesitate  to  consign 
it  to  that  Hmbo  of  egotism — the  preface. 
Be  it  known,  then,  that  although  in  the 
following  pages  I  have,  without  com- 
punction, attacked  the  folly  and  vice  of 
those  who  practice  such,  yet  I  would 
rather  my  right  hand  should  wither  than 
that  the  pen  it  wields  should  inflict  a 
single  wound  upon  one  innocent  person. 
I  am  willinof  to  believe,  nav,  I  know, 
that  there  are  many  men  and  women 
who  can  and  do  dance  without  an 
impure  thought  or  action;  for  theirs  is 
not  the  Dance  of  Death;  they  can  take 
a  reasonable  pleasure  in  one  another's 
society  without  wishing  to  be  locked  in 
one  another's  embrace;  they  can  rest 
content  with  such  graces  as  true  refine- 
ment teaches  them  are  modest,  without 
leaping    the     bounds    of     decorum    to 


Preface.  1 3 

indulge  in  what  a  false  and  fatal  refine- 
ment styles  the  "poetry  of  motion;''  in 
short,  to  them  the  waltz,  in  its  newest 
phases  at  least,  is  a  stranger.  I  would 
not,  like  Lycurgus  and  Mahomet,  cut 
down  all  the  vines,  and  forbid  the  drink- 
ing of  wine,  because  it  makes  some  men 
driink.  Dancers  of  this  class,  therefore, 
I  implore  not  to  regard  the  ensuing 
chapters  as  referring  to  themselves — 
the  cap  does  not  fit  their  heads,  let  them 
not  attempt  to  wear  it. 

The  same  remarks  will  apply  to  some 
of  those  heads  of  families  who  permit 
and  encourage  dancing  at  their  homes. 
Many  among  them  doubtless  exercise  a 
surveillance  too  strict-  to  admit  of  any- 
thing improper  taking  place  within  their 
doors;  these  stand  in  no  need  of  either 
advice  or  warning  from  me.      But  more 


14  Preface, 

of  them,  I  am  grieved  to  say,  are  merely 
blameless  because  they  are  ignorant  of 
what  really  does  take  place.  The  social 
maelstrom  whirls  nightly  in  their  draw- 
ing-rooms; with  their  wealth,  hospitality, 
and  countenance  they  unconsciously,  but 
none  the  less  surely,  lure  the  fairest 
ships  of  life  into  its  mad  waters.  Let 
these  also,  then,  not  be  offended  that  in 
this  book  I  raise  a  beacon  over  the  dark 
vortex,  within  whose  treacherous  em- 
brace so  many  sweet  young  souls  have 
been  whirled  to  perdition. 


CHAPTER    I. 


**  That  motley  drama  !     Oh,  be  sure 

It  shall  not  be  forgot ! 
With  its  Phantom  chased  for  evermore 

By  a  crowd  that  seize  it  not. 
Through  a  circle  that  ever  returneth  in 

To  the  self-same  spotj 
And  much  of  Madness,  and  more  of  Sin 

And  Horror,  the  soul  of  the  plot  !'* 

PoE. 

EADER,  I  have  an  engagement 
to  keep  to-night.  Let  me  take 
you  with  me;  you  will  be  inter-* 
ested. 

But,  stay — I  have  a  condition  to  make 
before  I  accept  of  your  company.  Have 
you  read  the  preface  ?  '*  No,  of  course 
not ;  who  reads  prefaces  ?  "     Very  well, 


1 6  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

just  oblige  me  by  making  mine  an  ex- 
ception— it  is  a  Gilead  where  you  per- 
haps may  obtain  balm  for  the  wounds 
you  will  receive  on  our  expedition.  And 
now,  supposing  you  to  have  granted  this 
request,  let  us  proceed. 

Our  carriage  pulls  up  before  the  en- 
trance of  an  imposing  mansion.  From 
every  window  the  golden  gaslight 
streams  out  into  the  darkness;  from 
the  wide-open  door  a  perfect  glory 
floods  the  street  from  side  to  side. 
There  is  a  hum  of  subdued  voices  with- 
in, there  is  a  banging  of  coach  doors 
without;  there  is  revelry  brewing,  we 
may  be  sure. 

^  We  step  daintily  from  our  carriage 
upon  the  rich  carpet  which  preserves 
our  patent-leathers  from  the  contamina- 
tion of  the  sidewalk;  we  trip  lightly  up 
the  grand  stone  stairway  to  the  en- 
trance; obsequious  lackeys  relieve  us 
of    our     superfluous     raiment;     folding 


A    GOODLY    COMPANY.  I  7 

doors  fly  open  before  us  without  so 
much  as  a  ''sesame"  being  uttered;  and, 
behold,  we  enter  upon  a  scene  of  en- 
chantment. 

Magnificent  apartments  succeed  each 
other  in  a  long  vista,  glittering  with 
splendid  decorations;  costly  frescoes  are 
overhead,  luxurious  carpets  are  under 
foot,  priceless  pictures,  rich  laces,  rare 
trifles  of  art  are  around  us;  an  atmos- 
phere of  wealth,  refinement,  luxury,  and 
good  taste  is  all-pervading. 

But  these  are  afterthoughts  with  us; 
it  is  the  splendor  of  the  assembled  com- 
pany that  absorbs  our  admiration  now. 
Let  us  draw  aside  and  observe  this 
throng  a  little,  my  friend. 

Would  you  have  believed  it  possible 
that  so  much  beauty  and  richness  could 
have  been  collected  under  one  roof? 
Score  upon  score  of  fair  women  and 
handsome  men;  the  apparel  of  the 
former  rich  beyond  conception — of  the 


l8  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

latter,  immaculate  to  a  fault.  The  rooms 
are  pretty  well  filled  already,  but  the  cry 
is  still  they  come. 

See  yonder  tall  and  radiant  maiden, 
as  she  enters  leaning  upon  the  arm  of 
her  grey-headed  father.  Mark  her  well, 
my  friend;  I  will  draw  your  attention  to 
her  again  presently.  How  proud  of  her 
the  old  man  looks;  and  well  he  may. 
What  divine  grace  of  womanhood  lives 
in  that  supple  form;  what  calm,  sweet 
beauty  shines  in  that  lovely  face — a  face 
so  pure  and  passionless  in  expression 
that  the  nudity  of  bust  and  arms,  and 
the  contour  of  limbs  more  than  sug- 
gested by  the  tightly  clinging  silk,  call 
for  no  baser  admiration  than  we  feel 
when  looking  upon  the  representation  of 
an  angel.  Observe  closely  with  what 
high-bred  and  maidenly  reserve  she  re- 
sponds to  the  greeting  of  the  Apollo  in 
a  "  claw-hammer  "  who  bows  low  before 
her — the  very  type  of  the  elegant  and 


PRELIMINARIES,  TO 

polished  gentleman.  In  bland  and  gen- 
tle tones  he  begs  a  favor  to  be  granted 
a  little  later  in  the  evening.  With 
downcast  eyes  she  smiles  consent;  with 
a  bow  he  records  the  promise  upon  a 
tablet  in  his  hand.  Gracefully  she 
moves  forward  again,  leaning  on  her 
father  s  arm,  smiling  and  nodding  to  her 
acquaintances,  and  repeating  the  harm- 
less little  ceremony  described  above  with 
perhaps  a  dozen  other  Apollos  before 
she  reaches  the  end  of  the  room. 

''Ah,  pure  and  lovely  girl!''  I  hear 
you  mutter  as  she  disappears,  ''happy 
indeed  is  he  who  can  win  that  jewel  for 
a  wife.  That  face  w^ill  haunt  me  like  a 
dream!"  Likely  enough,  O  my  friend! 
but  dreams  are  not  all  pleasant. 

Now  look  again  at  this  young  wife 
just  entering  with  her  husband.  Is  she 
not  beautiful!  and  how  devotedly  she 
hangs  upon  his  arm!  With  what  a 
triumphant  glance  around  the  room  he 


20  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

seems  to  say:  ''Behold  my  treasure — 
my  very  own;  look  at  the  gorgeousness 
of  her  attire,  ladies,  and  pray  for  such  a 
husband;  gaze  upon  the  fairness  of  her 
face,  gentlemen,  and  covet  such  a  wife/* 
Again  the  Apollos  step  blandly  forward, 
again  the  little  promises  are  lisped  out 
and  recorded.  And  so  the  goodly  com- 
pany go  on,  introducing  and  being  intro- 
duced, and  conversing  agreeably  to- 
gether. A  right  pleasant  and  edifying 
spectacle,  surely. 

But,  hark!  The  music  strikes  up;  the 
dancing  is  about  to  begin.  You  and  I 
do  not  dance;  we  withdraw  to  an  adjoin- 
ing room  and  take  a  hand  at  cards. 

The  hours  go  swiftly  by  and  still  we 
play  on.  The  clock  strikes  two;  the 
card-players  are  departing.  But  the 
strains  of  the  distant  music  have  been 
unceasing;  the  game  does  not  flag  in  the 
ball-room.  You  have  not  seen  a  dance 
since  your  youth,  you  say,  and  then  only 


THE    SCENE    CHANGES.  21 

the  rude  gambols  of  country-folk;  you 
would  fain  see  before  you  go  how  these 
dames  and  damsels  of  gentler  breeding 
acquit  themselves. 

The  dance  is  at  its  height;  we  could 
not  have  chosen  a  better  time  to  see  the 
thing  in  its  glory. 

As  we  approach  the  door  of  the  ball- 
room the  music  grows  louder  and  more 
ravishing  than  ever;  no  confusion  of 
voices  mars  its  delicious  melody;  the 
only  sounds  heard  beneath  its  strains  afe 
a  low  swish  and  rustle  as  of  whirling 
robes,  and  a  light,  but  rapid  and  inces- 
sant shuffling  of  feet.  The  dull  element 
has  gone  home ;  those  who  remain  have 
better  work  to  do  than  talking.  We 
push  the  great  doors  asunder  and  enter. 

Ha!  the  air  is  hot  and  heavy  here;  it 
breathes  upon  us  in  sensuous  gusts  of 
varying  perfumes.  And  no  wonder. 
A  score  of  whirling  scented  robes  stir  it 
into     fragrance.       How     beautiful — but 


22  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

you  look  aghast,  my  friend.  Ah,  I 
forgot;  these  are  not  the  rude  country- 
folk of  your  youth.  You  are  dazzled — 
bewiklered.  Then  let  me  try  to  enliven 
your  dulled  senses  with  a  description  of 
what  we  see. 

A  score  of  forms  whirl  swiftly  before 
us  under  the  softened  gaslight.  I  say  a 
score  of  forms — but  each  is  double — 
they  would  have  made  two  score  before 
the  dancing  began..  Twenty  floating 
visions — each  male  and  female.  Twenty 
women  knit  and  growing  to  as  many 
men,  undulate,  sway,  and  swirl  giddily 
before  us,  keeping  time  with  the  delirious 
melody  of  piano,  harp,  and  violin, 

But  draw  nearer — let  us  see  how  this 
miracle  is  accomplished.  Do  you  mark 
yonder  tall  couple  who  seem  even  to 
excel  the  rest  in  grace  and  ardor.  Do 
they  not  make  a  picture  which  might 
put  a  soul  under  the  ribs  of  Death  ?  Such 
must  have  been  the  sight   which   made 


A   PRETTY    PICTURE.  23 

Speusippas  Incontinently  rave  :  ''  O  ad- 
mirable, O  divine  Panareta !  Who 
would  not  admire  her,  who  would  not 
love  her,  that  should  but  see  her  dance 
as  I  did  ?  O  how  she  danced,  how  she 
tripped,  how  she  turned  !  With  what  a 
grace  !  Felix  qui  Pariareta  fruitur !  O 
most  incomparable,  only,  Panareta!"  Let 
us  take  this  couple  for  a  sample.  He  is 
stalwart,  agile,  mighty;  she  is  tall,  supple, 
lithe,  and  how  beautiful  in  form  and 
feature!  Her  head  rests  upon  his  shoul- 
der, her  face  is  upturned  to  his;  her 
naked  arm  is  almost  around  his  neck; 
her  swelling  breast  heaves  tumultuously 
against  his;  face  to  face  they  whirl,  his 
limbs  interwoven  with  her  limbs;  with 
strong  right  arm  about  her  yielding 
waist,  he  presses  her  to  him  till  every 
curve  in  the  contour  of  her  lovely  body 
thrills  v/ith  the  amorous  contact:  Her 
eyes  look  into  his,  but  she  sees  nothing; 
the  soft    music   fills   the  room,   but  she 


24  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

hears  nothing;  swiftly  he  whirls  her 
from  the  floor  or  bends  her  frail  body  to 
and  fro  in  his  embrace,  but  she  knows 
it  not;  his  hot  breath  is  upon  her  hair, 
his  lips  almost  touch  her  forehead,  yet 
she  does  not  shrink;  his  eyes,  gleamingr 
with  a  fierce  intolerable  lust,  gloat  satyr- 
like over  her,  yet  she  does  not  quail ;  she 
is  filled  with  a  rapture  divine  in  its  in- 
tensity— she  is  in  the  maelstrom  of  burn- 
ing desire — her  spirit  is  with  the  gods. 

With  a  last,  low  wail  the  music  ceases. 
Her  swooning  senses  come  back  to  life. 
Ah,  must  it  be!  Yes;  her  companion 
releases  her  from  his  embrace.  Leaning 
wearily  upon  his  arm,  the  rapture  faded 
from  her  eye,  the  flush  dying  from  her 
cheek — enervated,  limp,  listless,  worn 
out — she  is  led  to  a  seat,  there  to  recover 
from  her  delirium  and  gather  her  ener- 
gies as  best  she  may  in  the  space  of  five 
minutes,  after  which  she  must  yield  her 
body  to  a  new  embrace. 


FROM  DREAMS  TO  WAKING.      25 

But  did  you  not  notice  a  faint  smile 
upon  the  lips  of  her  late  companion  as 
he  turned  and  left  her?  a  smile  of  tri- 
umph, an  air  of  sated  appetite,  it  seemed 
to  me;  and  see,  as  he  joins  his  cronies 
yonder  he  laughs,  rubs  his  hands 
together,  chuckles  visibly,  and  commu- 
nicates some  choice  scrap  of  news  which 
makes  them  look  over  at  our  jaded 
beauty  and  laugh  too;  they  appreciate 
the  suggestion  of  the  ancient : 

**  Tenta  modo  tangere  corpus, 
Jam  tua  mellifluo  membra  calore  fluent." 

But  she  can  keep  her  secret  better 
than  they,  it  is  evident. 

And  now  tell  me,  friend  of  mine,  did 
you  not  recognize  an  old  acquaintance  in 
the  lady  we  have  been  watching  so 
closely  ?  No !  Then  believe  me  she  is 
no  other  than  the  "pure  and  lovely  girl'* 
you  so  much  admired  earlier  in  the  even- 
ing, the  so  desirable  wife,  the  angel  who 
was  to  "haunt  your  dreams." 


26  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 


'What !  that  harlot- 


Hush — a  spade  is  not  called  a  spade 
here ;  but  I  assure  you  again  that  the 
sensuous,  delirious  Bacchante  whose 
semi-nakedness  was  so  apparent  as  she 
lay  swooning  in  the  arms  of  her  param — 
partner  just  now,  was  one  and  the  same 
with  the  chaste  and  calm  Diana — virgo 
virgmissima — whose  modest  mien  con- 
cealed her  nudity  so  well.  Moreover 
the  satyr  who  was  her  accomplice — I 
can  find  no  better  word — ^the  coward 
who  pastured  upon  her  and  then  boasted 
of  his  lechery,  was  the  Apollo  who 
first  saluted  her  ;  the  little  promise  which 
she  gave  so  gracefully,  and  which  he 
recorded  so  eagerly,  was  a  deliberate 
surrender  of  her  body  to  his  use  and 
their  mutual  enjoyment.  Furthermore, 
the  old  man  who,  filled  with  wine,  sits 
asleep  before  the  fire  in  the  card-room, 
dreaming  he  holds  thirteen  trumps  in 
his  hand,  is  the  proud  father  of  our  fair 


LE    JEU    EST    FAIT,  2"] 

friend.  Unselfish  old  man!  he,  like 
you,  knows  no  dances  but  reels  and 
minuets.  '*Why  should  not  the  dear 
girl  enjoy  herself?"  he  says;  besides,  if 
he  grows  tired  he  can  go ;  Apollo  will 
be  glad  to  see  her  home.  Apollo  being 
rich,  the  old  gentleman  has  no  objection 
to  see  him  chasing  his  Daphne;  Cupio, 
Cupid,  Cupidity  —  the  Latin  always 
knows  what  it  is  about. 

But,  hark !  The  music  begins  again. 
Le  jeu  est  fait,  faites  votre  jeu  7nessieurs! 
Gentlemen  croupiers,  prepare  to  rake  in 
lost  souls !  All  stakes  are  yours  that 
come  within  your  reach. 

With  energies  recuperated  by  stimu- 
lating refreshments^  matron  and  maiden 
rise  to  the  proffered  embrace ;  with  lusty 
vigor  the  Bulls  of  Bashan  paw  their 
fresh  pastures.  This  is  the  last  dance, 
and  a  furious  one. 

*'  Now  round  the  room  the  circling  dow'gers  sweep, 
Now  in  loose  waltz  the  thin-clad  daughters  leap; 
The  first  in  lengthened  line  majestic  swim, 
The  last  display  the  free,  unfettered  limb." 


28  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

The  Saturnalia  will  soon  be  ended. 
One  more  picture  before  we  go. 

What  right  has  that  face  over  there 
to  intrude  amid  this  scene  of  wild 
festivity.'^  That  dark  and  scowling  face, 
filled  with  hate,  and  jealousy,  and  stifled 
rage.  See  how  its  owner  prowls  rest- 
lessly about;  continually  changing  his 
position,  but  ever  keeping  his  watchful 
eyes  upon  that  voluptuous  woman  who^ 
surrendering  her  soul  to  the  lascivious 
pleasing  of  opportunity,  is  reeling,  glid- 
ing, and  yielding  in  the  clutch  of  her 
partner — her  drunken  catholicity  of  de- 
sire, her  long  libidinous  reaches  of  im- 
agination, the  glib  and  facile  assent  of 
her  emotions,  figured  in  every  move- 
ment, and  visible   to  every  eye. 

This  was  the  manner  in  which  Bacch- 
us and  Ariadne  danced,  which  so  moved 
the  spectators  that,  as  the  old  writer  tells 
us,  '*  they  that  were  unmarried  swore  they 
would  forthwith  marry,  and  those  that 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  29 

were  married  called  instantly  for  their 
horses  and  galloped  home  to  their  wives." 
That  miserable,  self-despised,  desper- 
ate wretch  is  the  exultant  husband 
whom  we  noticed  on  his  arrival;  it  is 
natural  that  he  should  take  some  interest 
in  the  lady, — she  is  the  wife  he  was  ex- 
ulting over.  No  wonder  that  there  is  a 
dangerous  look  in  his  eye  as  he  takes  in 
the  situation ;  the  gallant  who  is  dancing 
with  his  wife  may  sup  with  Polonius 
yet — -late,  or  rather  early,  as  it  is,  for 
''murder's  as  near  to  lust  as  flame  to 
smoke."  No  wonder  there  is  a  hang- 
dog expression  in  his  face  as  his  friends 
clap  him  on  the  back  and  applaud  the 
lady  s  performance — ask  him  how  he 
is  enjoying  the  evening,  and  so  forth. 
But  the  climax  is  reached  when  the 
sated  Lothario  restores  the  partner 
of  his  joys  to  her  lawful  lord,  with  the 
remark  that  ''your  wife,  sir,  dances  most 
divinely;"  then  the  poor  fool  must  screw 


30  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

up  a  sickly  smile  and  say  '* thank  you, 
sir/'  knowing-  all  the  while  in  his  heart 
of  hearts  that  the  man  before  him  has 
just  now^  most  surely  made  him  cuckold 
under  his  very  nose.  Poor  fool!  Will 
he  never  learn  to  appreciate  the  utter 
vileness  of  his  situation  ?  Will  he  always 
be  persuaded  next  morning  that  he  must 
have  been  excited  by  the  champagne — 
that  his  jealousy  was  the  acme  of  all  un- 
reason ?  Or  will  he,  as  many  have  done, 
pop  out  some  fine  day  a  full-fledged  dancer 
himself,  and  compromise  matters  with  his 
wife  by  making  the  degradation  mutual  ? 

But  while  we  ponder  these  things  the 
melody  has  ceased ;  the  weary  musicians 
have  departed.  There  is  a  rush  for 
cloaks  and  hoods,  and  rather  more  ad- 
justing of  the  same  upon  feminine  forms 
by  bold  masculine  hands  than  is  perhaps 
necessary  for  their  proper  arrangement. 

Shift  the  scenery  for  the  last  act  of 
this  delectable  drama! 


THE    DROP    SCENE.  3 1 

The  gentlemen  will  escort  the  ladies 
to  their  homes!  Apollo  will  still  pur- 
sue the  nimble  Daphne,  Pan  will  not  yet 
relinquish  his  hot  pursuit  of  the  fleet- 
footed  Syrinx;  and  verily  on  this  occasion 
their  reward  shall  be  greater  than  reeds 
and  laurels.  Forward,  then,  to  the  wait- 
ing carriages! 

Ah,  how  grateful  to  the  gas-scorched 
eyeballs  is  the  thick  gloom  of  the 
coach — how  pleasant  to  the  weary  limbs 
are  these  luxurious  cushions! 

There!  close  the  door  softly;  up  with 
the  windows — down  with  the  curtains! 
Driver,  go  slowly,  as  I  heard  you 
ordered  to  do  just  now,  and  you  shall 
not  want  for  future  patronage.  And 
you,  young  man  within,  strike  while  the 
iron  is  hot.  In  your  comrade  every 
mental  sense  is  stupified,  every  carnal 
sense  is  roused.  It  is  the  old,  old  story: 
**  NoXy    vinum    et    adolescentia!^      TJie 


32  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

opportunity  is  golden.     Society  is  very 
good  to  you,young  man! 

Come,  my  friend,  let  us  go.  The 
play  is  played  out,  and  so  are  the  play- 
ers. The  final  tableau  does  not  take 
place  upon  the  stage.  We  read  that 
under  one  of  the  Roman  Emperors  the 
pantomimic  dance  was  not  unfrequently 
ended  by  the  putting  to  death  by  torture 
upon  the  stage  of  some  condemned 
criminal,  in  order  that  the  spectators 
might  gaze  upon  death  in  all  its  horrible 
reality.  God  forbid  that  any  such  ghastly 
finale  should  take  place  behind  the  scenes 
now  that  ou7^  pantomime  is  finished ! 
But  at  all  events  there  is  no  more  to 
see;  and  lest  your  imagination  spoil  your 
rest  let  me  divert  your  attention  to  the 
speck  of  dawn  over  there  in  the  east. 
At  this  hour,  says  the  poet, 

"  When  late  larks  give  warning 
Of  dying  lights  and  dawning, 
'  Night  murmurs  to  the  morning, 

*Lie  still,  O  love,  lie  still;' 


THE   AFTERPIECE.  33 

And  half  her  dark  limbs  cover 
The  white  limbs  of  her  lover, 
With  amourous  plumes  that  hover 
And  fervent  lips  that  chill." 

But,  mind  you,  in  these  lines  the  poet 
does  not  even  remotely  refer  to  the 
occupants  of  the  carriage. 


CHAPTER   11. 


**  The  Dance  is  the  spur  of  lust — a  circle  of  which 
the  Devil  himself  is  the  centre.  Many  women  that 
use  it  have  come  dishonest  home,  most  indifferent, 
none  better." — Petrarch, 


UT,"  says  the  worthy  reader 
who  has  honored  me  by  pe- 
rusing the  preceding  Chapter, 
*'what  manner  of  disofustino^ 
revel  is  this  that  you  have  shown  us  ? 
Have  we  been  present  at  a  reproduction 
of  the  rites  of  Dionysus  and  Astarte  ? 
Have  we  held  high  revel  in  the  halls  of 
a  modern  Faustina  or  Messalina?  Have 
we  supped  with  Catherine  of  Russia  ? 
Or  have  we  been  under  the  influence  of 
a  restored  Lampsacene  ? 


IS  NOT  SAUCE  FOR  THE  GANDER.  35 

Don't  delude  yourself,  my  unsophis- 
ticated friend,  you  have  simply  been 
present  at  a  "  social  hop  "  at  the  house 
of  the  Hon.  Ducat  Fitzbullion — a  most 
estimable  and  *' solid"  citizen,  a  deacon 
of  the  church,  where  his  family  regularly 
attend,  a  great  promoter  of  charities, 
Magdalen  Asylums,  and  the  like,  and 
President  of  the  "  Society  for  the  Sup- 
pression of  Immorality  among  the  Hot- 
tentots." The  fair  women  whom  you 
have  somewhat  naturally  mistaken  for 
prHresses  de  la  Vagabonde  Vdiius,  are 
the  pure  daughters  and  spotless  wives 
of  our  *'best  citizens;"  their  male 
companions,  or  accomplices,  or  whatever 
you  choose  to  call  them,  are  the  creme 
de  la  creme  of  all  that  is  respectable 
and  eligible  in  society ;  and,  finally,  the 
dance  which  you  have  pronounced  out- 
rageously indecent,  is  simply  the  Divine 
Waltz,  in  its  various  shapes  of  "  Dip,'' 
'Glide,"     ^'Saratoga,"    "German."    and 


36  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

what  not — the  King  of  Dances  "with  all 
the  modern  improvements." 

And  this,  my  dear  reader,  is  the  abom- 
ination that  I  intend  to  smite  hip  and 
thigh — not  with  fine  words  and  dainty 
phrases,  but  with  the  homely  language 
of  truth ;  not  blinded  by  prejudice  or 
passion,  but  calmly  and  reasonably ;  not 
with  any  private  purpose  to  subserve, 
but  simply  in  the  cause  of  common  de- 
cency ;  not  with  the  hope  of  working  out 
any  great  moral  reform,  but  having  the 
sense  of  duty  strong  upon  me  as  I  stick 
my  nibbed  lancet  into  the  most  hideous 
social  ulcer  that  has  as  yet  afflicted  the 
body  corporate. 

That  the  subject  is  a  delicate  one  is 
best  shown  by  the  fact  that  even  Byron 
found  himself  reduced  to  the  necessity 
of  *'  Putting  out  the  light ''  and  invok- 
ing the  longest  garments  to  cover  that 
which  he  was  unable  to  describe — hear 
him: 


TOLERATED,  YET  INTOLERABLE.    37 

"  Waltz — Waltz  alone — both  legs  and  arms  demands  ; 
Liberal  of  feet,  and  lavish  of  her  hands  5 
*  Hands  which  may  freely  range  in  public  sight 
Where  ne'er  before — but — pray  "  put  out  the  light.* 

*  »  *  -x-  *  * 

**But  here  the  muse  with  due  decorum  halts — 
And  lends  her  longest  petticoats  to  Waltz." 

It  should  not,  then,  be  a  matter  of  sur- 
prise, when  one  so  gifted  in  the  use  of 
his  mother  tongue  and  writing  in  a  far  less 
prudish  age,  failed  to  describe  the  "  voj- 
uptuous  Waltz"  without  shocking  his 
readers, — if  I,  sixty-three  years  later, 
with  so  much  more  to  describe  and  such 
limited  capacity,  do  not  succeed  in  ren- 
dering the  subject  less  repulsive. 

Many  will  urge  that  a  practice  in- 
dulged in  by  the  "  best  people  "  of  every 
country — seemingly  tolerated  by  all — 
cannot  be  so  violently  assailed  without 
some  motive  other  than  a  disinterested 
desire  to  advocate  a  correct  principle — 
but  such  are  reminded  that  much  more 
than  one-half  the  male  adult  population 


38  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

of  every  American  city  are  addicted  to 
the  use  of  tobacco.  Is  its  baneful  effect 
upon  the  nerves  of  man  any  the  less 
severe  on  this  account  ?  So  in  the  case 
of  alcoholic  beverages,  is  it  open  to  de- 
bate that  the  great  mass  of  our  popula- 
tion are  constantly  consuming  this  **  wet 
damnation  ''  ?  And  is  it  not  known  to  all 
that  it  is  the  direct  source  of  desolation  to 
hearth  and  home,  the  destroyer  of  happi- 
ness and  character, — that  this  has  bro- 
ken more  hearts,  filled  more  dishonored 
graves  than  any  other  of  man  s  follies  ? 
Does,  I  say,  the  fact  of  its  universality 
render  its  destroying  influence  less  po- 
tent ?  I  think  not.  Neither  do  I  believe 
the  fact  of  society  permitting  itself  to  be 
carried  by  storm  into  the  toleration  of 
the  ''modern''  dance,  obliterates  the  fear- 
ful vortex  into  which  its  members  are 
drawn,  or  compensates  for  the  irreparable 
loss  it  suffers  in  the  degradation  of  its 
chief  ornament — woman. 


DELICATE,    BECAUSE    INDELICATE.      39 

And  here  is  one  great  difficulty  in 
my  self-imposed  task,  for  to  lovely  and 
pure  woman  must  I  partly  address  my- 
self Yet  even  a  partial  reference  to 
the  various  considerations  involved,  en- 
tails the  presenting  of  topics  not  gener- 
ally admitted  into  refined  conversation. 
But  in  order  to  do  any  justice  at  all 
to  the  subject,  we  must  not  only  con- 
sider the  dance  itself,  but  we  must  follow 
it  to  its  conclusion.  We  must  look  at 
its  direct  results.  We  must  hold  it  re- 
sponsible for  the  vice  it  encourages,  the 
lasciviousness  of  which  it  so  largely  par- 
takes. And  in  presenting  this  subject, 
I  shall  steadfastly  ignore  that  line  of 
argument  based  upon  the  assumption 
that  because  ''  it  is  general,"  it  must  be 
proper.     Says  Rochester  :  — 

**  Custom  does  often  reason  overrule, 
And  only  serves  for  reason  to  the  fool." 

And  Crabbe : — 

**  Habit  with  him  was  all  the  test  of  truth  : 
It  must  be  right — I've  done  it  from  my  youth.*' 


40  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

No,  neither  the  use  of  tobacco,  the  In- 
dulgence in  alcoholic  beverages,  nor  the 
familiar  posturing  of  the  ''Glide''  can  be 
justified  or  defended  by  proving  that 
they  are  common  to  all  classes  of  society. 
I  repeat  that  the  scene  I  have  at- 
tempted to  describe  in  the  foregoing 
chapter  is  no  creation  of  a  prurient  imagi- 
nation— would  to  God  that  it  were — but 
is  a  scene  that  is  enacted  at  every  social 
entertainment  which  in  these  days  is 
regarded  by  the  class  for  whose  benefit 
this  work  is  written  as  worth  the  trouble 
of  attending.  I  repeat  that  the  female 
portion  of  the  '*  class "  referred  to  is 
not  composed  of  what  are  commonly 
known  as  prostitutes,  whatever  the  un- 
initiated spectator  at  their  orgies  may 
imagine,  but  of  matrons  who  are  held 
spotless,  and  of  maidens  who  are  counted 
pure — not  only  by  the  world  in  general, 
but  by  those  husbands,  fathers,  and 
brothers,  whose  eyes  should  surely  be 


THE    FRUIT    OF    CULTURE.  4 1 

the  first  to  detect  any  taint  upon  the 
character  of  wife,  daughter,  or  sister. 
And  I  repeat,  moreover,  that  the  social 
status  of  these  people  is  not  that  of  the 
rude  peasant  whose  lewd  pranks  are 
the  result  of  his  ignorance,  but  that  of 
the  most  highly  cultivated  and  refined 
among  us.  These  are  the  people  who 
are  expected  to,  and  do,  lead  the  world 
in  all  that  is  elegant  and  desirable;  and 
the  Waltz,  forsooth,  is  one  of  their  arts 
— one  of  the  choice  products  of  their 
ultra-civilization — brought  to  perfection 
by  the  grace  with  which  God  has  gifted 
them  above  common  folk,  adorned  by 
their  wealth,  and  enjoyed  by  their  high- 
strung  sensibilities.  The  boor  could  not 
dance  as  they  do  though  he  were  willing 
to  give  his  immortal  soul  to  possess  the 
accomplishment,  for  the  waltz,  in  its 
perfection,  is  a  pleasure  reserved  for  the 
social  pantheon. 

Said  one  to  me,  stooping  forward  in 


42  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

the  most  confidential  way  ''Do  you  see 
that  young  lady  to  the  left  ?  How  exqui- 
sitely the  closely  drawn  silk  discloses 
her  wasp-like  form !  and  those  motions 
— could  anything  be  more  suggestive  ? 
Every  movement  of  her  body  is  a  per- 
fect reproduction  of  Hogarth's  line  of 
beauty.  Look  man!  Remove  just  a 
little  drapery  and  there  is  nothing  left 
to  desire — is'nt  it  wonderful  ?  But  then/' 
added  he,  "it  is  a  perfect  outrage  never- 
theless." 

Not  so,  I  answered.  Can  aught  be 
said  against  her  reputation  ?  no  !  —  a 
thousand  times  no — and  as  for  her  dress, 
is  it  not  the  perfection  of  what  all  others 
in  the  room  are  but  a  crude  attempt 
to  acccomplish  ?  Does  it  not  disclose  a 
form  intrinsically  beautiful,  and  admit  of 
a  grace  and  ''  poetry  of  motion "  quite 
unknown  to  those  encumbered  with 
petticoats  ?  Yes,  look  at  her  backward 
and  forward  movements — see  how  she 


AN    APT    PUPIL.  43 

entwines  her  lithe  limbs  with  those  of 
her  enraptured  partner  as  they  oscillate, 
advance,  recede,  and  rotate,  as  though 
they  were  ^'spitted  on  the  same  bodkin/' 

**Thus  front  to  front  the  partners  move  or  stand, 
The  foot  may  rest,  but  none  withdraw  the  hand." 

This,  sir,  is  but  one  of  the  many  improve- 
ments on  the  waltz. 

And  pray,  sir,  are  not  this  lady  to  tne 
right  and  that  one  in  the  center,  vainly 
endeavoring  to  achieve  the  same  feat  ? 
The  only  difference  is  that  this  lady  is 
better  dressed,  more  ably  taught  than 
either;  is  she  to  be  censured  because 
she  has  the  talent  and  industry  to  do 
well,  that  which  they  have  neither  the 
courage,  energy,  nor  ability  to  perform  ? 


CHAPTER  III. 


"  Wherefore  God  also  gave  them  up  to  uncleanness 
through  the  lust  of  their  own  hearts,  to  dishonor  their 
own  bodies  between  themselves." 

—Epistle  to  the  Romans. 


OUS 


LREADY  I  see  the  face  of  the 
reader  grow  red  with  indigna- 
tion. "This  is  a  calumniator, 
an  infamous  detractor,  an  envi- 
pessimist,  a  hater  of  all  that  is 
innocently  enjoyable!"  cries  he  or  she. 
Very  well — I  bow  my  acknowledge- 
ments for  the  compliment.  I  have 
already  stated  in  my  preface  that  I  did 
not  expect  you  to  say  anything  else.  I 
could  be  well  content  to  tell  what  I 
know  and  let  you  say  your  say  in  peace. 


AN    '* INNOCENT    AMUSEMENT.  45 

but  I  will  nevertheless  go  somewhat  out 
of  my  way  to  answer  your  principal 
objections. 

In  the  first  place,  there  are  certainly 
many  who  will  deny  my  charges  in 
tola — who  will  declare  that  the  waltz  is 
very  moral  and  healthful,  and  entirely 
innocent  and  harmless,  and  that  he  who 
puts  it  in  any  other  light  is  a  knave  and  a 
vile  slanderer.  These  of  my  opponents 
I  may  divide  into  two  classes:  First, those 
who  know  nothing  of  the  matter,  who 
have  never  danced,  have  scarcely  ever 
seen  a  modern  waltz,  and  are  conse- 
quently unwilling  to  believe  that  such 
terrible  things  could  be  going  on  in 
their  very  midst  without  their  knowl- 
edge ;  and,  secondly,  those  who  do  know 
and  practice  the  abomination,  and  find 
*'the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  knowledge"  far 
too  sweet  to  be  hedged  about  as  ''for- 
bidden." 

To  the  first  of  these  classes  I  have 


46  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH 

little  to  say;  it  is  composed  mainly  of 
"old  fogies/'  the  diversions  of  whose 
youth  were  innocent,  and  who  can  see 
no  evil  that  does  not  sprawl  in  all  its 
ugliness  over  the  face  of  the  community. 
If  a  courtesan  accosted  one  of  them  on 
the  street,  they  would  be  unutterably 
shocked,  and  so  they  certainly  would  if 
they  on  a  sudden  found  themselves  ex- 
periencing the  '^perfect  waltz,"  though 
even  then  it  is  doubtful  if  they  would 
not  be  shocked  into  dumbness  and 
grieved  into  inaction.  But  of  the  vailed 
and  subtle  pleasures  of  the  waltz  they 
are  profoundly  ignorant — why  should 
they  not  be?  They  see  no  harm  in  it 
because  they  don't  see  it  at  all;  they  are 
optimists  through  ignorance,  and  lift 
palms  of  deprecation  at  the  mention  of 
vice  which  they  cannot  understand 
or  attain  to.  To  these  I  say:  open 
your  eyes  and  look  about  you,  even  at 
the  risk  of    seeing    things    not  exactly 


THE    IDOL    DEFENDED.  47 

as  you  fancied  them  to  be;  or,  if  you 
will  remain  obstinately  blind,  then  pray 
do  not  deny  that  evil  exists  where  you 
do  not  happen  to  see  it  with  your  eyes 
shut.  I  have  painted  the  picture,  you 
can  compare  it  with  the  reality  at  your 
leisure. 

To  the  second  class  that  I  have  men- 
tioned, namely,  those  who  know  and 
deny  what  they  know,  a  far  stronger 
condemnation  is  to  be  applied.  It  is 
composed  of  the  ddinc^v^^'' par  excellence y 
both  male  and  female — who  have  tasted 
of  the  unholy  pleasures  of  the  waltz 
until  it  has  become  the  very  sap  of  their 
lives.  These  are  the  blushing  rakes  and 
ogling  prudes  who  will  be  most  bitter  in 
their  denunciation  of  this  book  and  its 
author;  and  no  wonder — I  only  oppose 
the  prejudices  of  the  others,  but  I  con- 

'^  I  have  stated  several  times,  and  I  now  do  so  for  the  last 
time,  that  by  **  dancers "  I  mean  ivaltzcrs,  I  hope  that  my 
meaning  will  not  be  ivilfuUy  misconstrued. 


48  THE  danc;e  of  death. 

tend  with  the  passions  of  these.  These 
It  is  who  are  forever  prating  of  the 
beauties  and  virtues  of  the  waltz.  It  is 
an  "innocent  recreation/'  a  *' healthful 
exercise/'  it  is  the  ''mother  of  grace"  and 
the  "poetry  of  motion;"  no  eulogy  can 
be  too  extravagant  for  them  to  bestow 
upon  their  idol.  They  see  no  harm  in  it, 
not  they,  and  for  those  who  dare  hint  at 
such  a  thing,  they  have  ever  ready  at 
their  tongue's  end  that  most  convenient 
and  abused  of  legends:  Honi  soit  qui 
mal  y  pense.  They  will  catch  at  any 
straw  to  defend  their  pet  amusement. 
They  will  tell  you  that  The  Preacher  says 
"there  is  a  time  to  dance,"  without  stop- 
ping to  inquire  why  that  ancient  cynic 
put  the  words  "there  is  a  time  to 
mourn"  in  such  close  proximity.  They 
will  inform  you  that  Plato,  in  his  Com- 
monwealth, will  have  dancing-schools  to 
be  maintained,  "that  young  folks  may 
meet,  be   acquainted,   see  one   another, 


THE   WORSHIP    DESCRIBED.  49 

and  be  seen/'  but  they  forget  to  mention 
that  he  will  also  have  them  dance  naked, 
or  to  quote  the  comments  of  Eusebius 
and  Theodoret  upon  Plato's  plan.  They 
think  the  secret  of  their  great  respect 
for  the  waltz  is  possessed  only  by  them- 
selves, and  hug  the  belief  that  by  them 
that  secret  shall  never  be  divulged. 
Bah!  They  must  dance  with  the  gas 
out  if  there  is  to  be  any  secrecy  in  the 
matter 

Innocent  and  healthful  recreation  for- 
sooth! The  grotesque  abominations  of 
the  old  Phallic  worship  had  a  basis  of 
clean  and  wholesome  truth,  but  as  the 
obscene  rites  of  that  worship  desecrated 
the  principle  that  inspired  them,  so  do 
the  pranks  of  the  ''divine  waltz"  libel 
the  impulse  that  stirs  its  wriggling  devo- 
tees. The  fire  that  riots  in  their  veins 
and  the  motive  that  actuates  their 
haunches  is  an  honest  flame  and  a 
decent  energy  when   honestly  and   de- 


50  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

cently  invoked,  but  if  blood  and  muscle 
would  be  pleased  to  indulge  their  impo- 
tent raptures  in  private,  the  warmer 
virtues  would  not  be  subjected  to  open 
caricature,  nor  the  colder  to  downright 
outrage. 

What  do  I  mean  by  such  insinuations  ? 
Nay,  then,  gentle  reader,  I  will  not 
insinuate,  but  will  boldly  state  that  with 
the  class  with  which  I  am  now  dealing — 
the  dancers  par  excellencey  the  modern 
waltz  is  not  merely  "  suggestive,''  as  its 
opponents  have  hitherto  charitably 
styled  it,  but  an  open  and  shameless 
gratification  of  sexual  desire  and  a  cooler 
of  burning  lust.  To  lookers-on  it  is 
**  suggestive ''  enough,  Heaven  knows, 
but  to  the  dancers — that  is  to  say,  to  the 
*' perfect  dancers" — it  is  an  actual  realiza- 
tion of  a  certain  physical  ecstacy  which 
should  at  least  be  indulged  in  private, 
and,  as  some  would  go  so  far  as  to  say, 
under    matrimonial    restrictions.      And 


THE    GREAT    SECRET.  5 1 

this  is  the  secret  to  which  I  have  alluded. 
It  cannot  even  be  claimed  as  private 
property  any  longer. 

"  For  shame!''  cries  the  horrified  (and 
non-waltzing)  reader;  *'how  can  you 
make  such  dreadfully  false  assertions ! 
And  who  are  these  'perfect  dancers' 
you  talk  so  much  about?  And  how 
came  you  to  know  their  '  secret '  as  you 
terra  it  ?  Surely  no  woman  of  even 
nominal  decency  would  make  such  a 
horrible  confession,  and  yet  the  most 
immaculate  women  waltz,  and  v/altz  di- 
vinely!" 

By  your  leave,  I  will  answer  these 
questions  one  at  a  time.  Who  are  these 
''perfect  waltzers?"  Of  the  male  sex 
there  are  several  types,  of  which  I  need 
only  mention  two. 

The  first  is  your  lively  and  handsome 
young  man — a  Hercules  in  brawn  and 
muscle — who  exults  in  his  strength  and 
glories  in  his  manhood.      Dancing  comes 


52  THE    DANCE   OF    DEATH. 

naturally  to  him,  as  does  everything  else 
that  requires  grace  and  skill.  He  is  a 
ruthless  hunter  to  whom  all  game  is  fain 
The  gods  have  made  him  beautiful  and 
strong,  and  the  other  sex  recognize  and 
appreciate  the  fact.  Is  it  to  be  expected 
of  Alcibiades  that  he  scorn  the  Athenian 
lasses,  or  of  Phaon  the  Fair  that  he  avoid 
the  damsels  of  Mytelene?  No  indeed! 
it  is  for  the  husband  and  father  to  take 
care  of  the  women — he  can  take  care  of 
himself.  Yet  even  this  gay  social  pirate 
and  his  like  might  take  a  hint  from  the 
poet : 

**But  ye — who  never  felt  a  single  thought 

For  what  our  morals  are  co  be,  or  ought} 

Who  wisely  wish  the  charms  you  view  to  reap, 

Say — would  you  make  those  beauties  quite  so  cheap?" 

But  this  fine  animal  is  by  no  means 
the  most  common  or  degraded  type  of 
ball-room  humanity.  It  would  be  per- 
haps better  it  he  were.  In  his  mighty 
embrace  a  woman  would  at  least  have 
the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  she  was 


A   FAMILIAR   TYPE.  53 

dancing  with  a  wholesome  creature, 
however  destitute  he  might  be  of  the 
finer  feelings  that  go  to  make  up  what 
is  called  a  man. 

No,  the  most  common  type  of  the 
male  "perfect  dancer''  is  of  a  different 
stamp.  This  is  the  blockhead  who 
covers  his  brains  with  his  boots — to 
whom  dancing  is  the  one  serious 
practical  employment  of  life,  and  who, 
it  must  be  confessed,  is  most  diligent 
and  painstaking  in  his  profession.  He 
is  chastity's  paramour — strong  and  lusty 
in  the  presence  of  the  unattainable,  fee- 
ble-kneed and  trembling  in  the  glance 
of  invitation  ;  in  pursuit  a  god,  in  pos- 
session an  incapable — satyr  of  dalliance, 
eunuch  of  opportunity.  This  creature 
dances  divinely.  He  has  given  his 
mind  to  dancing,  has  never  got  it  back, 
and  is  the  richer  for  that.  He  haunts 
"hops"  and  balls  because  his  ailing 
virility   finds  a  feast    in    the    paps    and 


54  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

gruels  of  love  there  dispensed.  It  is 
he  to  whose  contaminating  embrace 
your  wl — I  mean  your  neighbors  wife 
or  daughter,  dear  reader,  Is  oftenest  sur- 
rendered, to  whet  his  dulled  appetite  for 
strong  meats  of  the  bagnio  —  nay  to 
coach  him  for  offences  that  must  be 
nameless  here.  She  performs  her  func- 
tion thoroughly,  conscientiously,  wholly 
—  merges  her  Identity  In  his,  and  lo! 
the  Beast  with  two  Backs ! 

A  pretty  picture  is  it  not  ? — the  Grand 
Passion  Preservative  dragged  into  the 
blaze  of  gas  to  suffer  pious  indignities  at 
the  hand  of  worshippers  who  worship 
not  wisely,  but  too  well !  The  true 
Phallos  set  up  at  a  cross-roads  to  re- 
ceive the  homage  of  strolling  dogs — 
male  and  female  created  he  them  !  Bah  ! 
these  orgies  are  the  spawn  of  unman- 
nerly morals.  They  profane  our  civili- 
zation, and  are  an  indecent  assault  upon 
common  sense.      It  is  nea^rly  as  common 


•'C^SAR^S    wife/'  ETC.  55 

as  the  dance  itself,  to  hear  the  male 
participants  give  free  expresssion,  loose 
tongued,  to  the  lewd  emotions,  the  sen- 
sual pleasure,  in  which  they  indulge  when 
locked  in  the  embrace  of  your  wives  and 
daughters  ;  if  this  be  true,  if  by  any  pos- 
sibility it  can  be  true,  tha^  a  lady  how- 
ever innocent  in  thought  is  exposed  to 
lecherous  comments  of  this  description> 
then  is  it  not  also  true  tnat  every  woman 
possessing  a  remnant  of  delicacy,  will 
flee  from  the  dancing-hall  as  from  a 
pestilence. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


"What !  the  girl  that  I  love  by  another  embraced  I 
Another  man's  arm  round  my  chosen  one's  waist! 
What !  touched  in  the  twirl  by  another  man's  knee ; 
And  panting  recline  on  another  than  me ! 
Sir,  she's  y?urs  j  you  have  brushed  from  the  grape  its  soft  blue, 
From  the  rose  you  have  shaken  the  delicate  dew  j 
What  you've  touched  you  may  take — pretty  Waltzer,  adieu  T* 


ET  US  now  consider  the  female 
element  'in  this  immodesty- 
Is  the  woman  equally  to  blame 
with  the  man?  Is  she  the  un- 
conscious instrument  of  his  lust,  or  the 
conscious  sharer  in  it  ?     We  shall  see. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  absolutely  nec- 
essary that  she  shall  be  able  and  will- 
ing to  reciprocate  the  feelings  of  her 
partner  before  she    can  graduate  as  a 


EXPERTS    AND    AMATEURS.  5/ 

"divine  dancer."  Until  she  can  and 
will  do  this  she  is  regarded  as  a  *'scrub'' 
by  the  male  experts,  and  no  matter  what 
her  own  opinion  of  her  proficiency  may 
be  she  will  surely  not  be  sought  as  a 
companion  in  that  pidce  de  resistance 
of  the  ball-room  the  "after — supper 
glide." 

Horrible  as  this  statement  seems,  it  is 
the  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  and 
though  I  could  affirm  it  upon  oath  from 
what  I  have  myselt  heard  and  seen,  I 
fortunately  am  able  to  confirm  it  by  the 
words  of  a  highly  respected  minister  of 
the  gospel — Mr.  W.  €.  Wilkinson,  who 
some  years  ago  published  in  bpok  form 
an  article  on  '*  The  Dance  of  Modern 
Society,"  w^iich  originally  appeared  in 
one  of  our  American  Quarterly  Reviews. 

This  gentleman  gives  a  remark  over- 
heard on  4  railway  car,  in  a  conversation 
that  was  passing  between  two  young 
men    about    their    lady    acquaintances, 


58  THE    DANCE   OF    DEATH. 

''The  horrible  concreteness  ot  the  fel- 
lows expression,"  says  Mr  Wilkinson, 
''  may  give  a  wholesome  recoil  from 
danger  to  some  minds  that  would  be 
little  affected  by  a  speculative  statement 
of  the  same  idea.  Said  one :  I  would 
not   give   a  straw   to   dance  with   Miss 

;    you    can't    excite    any  more 

passion  in  her  than  you  can  in  a  stick  of 
wood/'  Can  anything  be  plainer  than 
this 

"  Pure  young  women  of  a  warmer 
temperament,"  the  same  reverend  author 
subsequently  adds,  ''  who  innocently 
abandon  themselves  to  enthusiastic  proc- 
lamations of  their  delight  in  the  dance  in 
the  presence  of  gentlemen,  should  but 
barely  once  have  a  male  intuition  of  the 
meaning  of  the  involuntary  glance  that 
will  oiten  shoot  across  from  eye  to  eye 
among  their  auditors.  Or  should  over- 
hear the  comments  exchanged  among 
them  afterwards.      For  when  young  men 


A   BALL-ROOM    REMINISCENCE.  59 

meet  after  an  evening  of  the  dance  to 
talk  it  over  together,  it  is  not  points  of 
dress  they  discuss.  Their  only  demand 
(in  this  particular)  and  it  is  generally 
conceded,  is  that  the  ladies'  dress  shall 
not  needlessly  embarrass  suggestion.*' 

But  here  is  one  of  my  own  experiences 
in  this  connection.  At  a  fashionable 
sociable,  I  was  approached  by  a  friend 
who  had  been  excelling  himself  in  Terp- 
sichorean  feats  during  the  whole  evening. 
This  friends  was  a  very  handsome  man, 
a  magnificent  dancer,  and  of  course  a 
great  favorite  with  the  ladies.  I  had 
been  watching  him  while  he  waltzed 
with  a  young  and  beautiful  lady,  also  of 
my  acquaintance,  and  had  been  filled 
with  wonder  at  the  way  he  had  foldled 
her  in  his  arms — literally  fondling  her 
upon  his  breast,  and  blending  her  deli- 
cate melting  form  into  his  ample  embrace 
in  a  manner  that  was  marvellous  to  be- 


6o  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

hold.  They  had  whirled  and  writhed 
In  a  corner  for  fully  ten  minutes — the 
fury  of  lust  in  his  eyes,  the  languor  of 
lust  in  hers — until  gradually  she  seemed 
to  lose  her  senses  entirely,  and  must 
have  slipped  down  upon  the  floor  when 
he  finally  released  her  from  his  embrace 
had  it  not  been  for  the  support  of  his  arm 
and  shoulder.  Now  as  he  came  up  to 
me  all  flushed  and  triumphant  I  remarked 
to  him  that  he  evidently  enjoyed  this 
thing  very  much. 

"  Of  course  I  do,''  he  answered. 
-Why  not.?" 

*'  But  I  should  think,''  said  I,  not  wish- 
ing to  let  him  see  that  I  knew  anything 
about  the  matter  from  experience,  "  that 
your  passions  would  become  unduly  ex- 
cited by  such  extremely  close  contact 
with  the  other  sex." 

"Excited!"  he  replied,  "of  course  they 
do;  but  not  unduly — what  else  do  you 
suppose   I   come  here    for  ?     And  don't 


HOW    TO    DO    IT.  61 

you  know,  old  fellow,"  he  added  in  a 
burst  of  confidence,  ''  that  this  waltzing 
is  the  grandest  thing  in  the  worici. 
While  you  are  whirling  one  of  those 
charmers — if  you  do  it  properly,  mind 
you — you  can  whisper  in  her  ear  things 
which  she  would  not  listen  to  at  any 
other  time.  Ah!  but  she  likes  it  then^ 
and  comes  closer  still,  and  in  response 
to  the  pressure  of  her  hand,  your  arm 
tightens  about  her  waist,  and  then" — but 
here  he  grew  very  eloquent  at  the  bare 
remembrance,  and  the  morals  of  the 
printer  must  be  respected. 

''  But,"  said  I,  ''I  should  be  afraid  to 
take  such  liberties  with  a  respectable 
woman." 

''  O,"  he  answered,  *'  that's  nothing — 
they  like  it;  but,  as  I  said  before,  you 
must  know  how  to  do  it;  there  must  be 
no  blundering;  they  wont  stand  that. 
The  best  place  to  learn  to  do  the  thing 
correctly  is  in  one  of  those  dance-cellars ; 


62;  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

there  you  can  take  right  hold  of  them. 
The  girls  there  are  "posted,"  you  know; 
and  they'll  soon  "post''  you.      Let  every- 
thing go  loose.     You  will  soon  fall  into 
the  step.     All  else  comes  natural.      I  go 
round  amongst  them  all.     Come  with  me 
a  few  nights,  I'll  soon  make  a  waltzer  of 
you — you  will  see  what  there  is  in  it." 
He  still  rests  under  the  promise  to  "show 
me  round  "  in  the  interests  of  the  diffu- 
sion of  useful  knowledge;  and  if  he  does 
not  trace  the  authorship  of  this  book  to 
me,  and  take  offence  thereat,  I  will  go  at 
some  future  time.      It  must  indeed   be 
"jolly,"  as  he  called  it,  to  possess  such 
consumate  skill  in  an  art  which  makes  the 
wives  and  daughters  of  our  "best  people" 
the   willing  instruments   of  his  lechery. 
Oh  yes — I  must  learn.     This   is  a  su- 
preme accomplishment  I  cannot   afford 
to  be    without.      It  has   been  said  that 
out  of  evil  comes  good,  and  assuredly 
"this  is  an  evil  born  with  all  its  teeth." 


•'TRAIN    UP    A    CHILD,'  ETC  63 

"Ah,  yes,''  continued  my  enthusiastic 
friend,  "it  isn't  the  whirling  that  makes 
the  waltz,  and  those  who  think  it  is  are 
the  poorest  dancers.  A  Httle  judi- 
cious handHng  will  make  a  sylph  out  of 
the  veriest  gawk  of  a  girl  that  ever 
attempted  the  "light  fantastic;"  and 
once  manage  to  initiate  one  of  those 
stay-at-home  young  ladies,  and  Til  war- 
rant you  she  11  be  on  hand  at  every  ball 
she  is  invited  to  for  the  rest  of  that 
season  Til  wager,  sir,  that  there  isn't  a 
"scrub"  in  this  room  who  just  knows 
the  step  but  what  I  can  make  a  dancer 
of  her  in  fifteen  minutes — the  dear 
creatures  take  to  it  naturally  when 
they  are  properly  taught.  But  don't 
forget  to  come  with  me  to  the  /dives' 
one  of  these  evenings  and  I'll  show  you 
what  there  is  in  it"  And  this  was  the 
estimation  in  which  this  man  held  the 
ladies  of  his  acquaintance:  this  is  the 
kind  of  satyr  to  the  quenching  of  whose 


64  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

filthy  lusts  we  are  to  furnisn  our  wives 
and  daughters;  this  is  the  manner  of 
Minotaur  who  must  be  fed  upon  comely- 
virgins — may  he  recognize  a  Theseus  in 
these  pages! 

And  yet,  dear  reader,  do  not  imagine 
that  this  man  was  a  social  ogre  of  un- 
usual monstrosity  No,  indeed,  he  was, 
and  is,  a  ''very  nice  young  man;"  he  is, 
in  fact,  commonly  regarded  as  a  model 
young  man.  Nor  must  you  imagine 
that  his  partner  had  a  single  stain  upon 
her  reputation.  She  is  a  young  lady  of 
the  highest  respectability;  she  takes  a 
great  interest  in  Sunday  schools,  is  reg- 
ular at  the  communion-table,  makes  flan- 
nel waistcoats  for  the  heathen,  and  is  on 
all  sides  allowed  to  be  the  greatest  catch 
of  the  season  in  the  matrimonial  market. 
If  she  and  the  young  man  in  question 
meet  in  the  street,  a  modest  bow  on  hei 
part,  and  a  respectful  lifting  of  the  hat 
on    his,    are    the    only   greetings    inter- 


A   STRANGE   ACQUAINTANCE.  65 

changed — he  may  enjoy  her  body  in  the 
ball-room,  but,  you  see,  he  is  not  well 
enough  acquainted  with  her  to  take  her 
hand  on  the  street. 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  Where  lives  the  man  that  hath  not  tried 
How  mirth  can  into  folly  glide, 

And  folly  into  sin  !  " — Scott. 

HE  conversation  I  have  given 
in  the  last  chapter  is  faithfully 
reported — it  is  exact  in  spirit 
very  nearly  so  in  letter ;  we  may 
surely  believe  that  the  clergyman  from 
whom  I  have  quoted  some  pages  back, 
was  honest  in  his  statements,  and  I 
think  that  there  can  be  no  man  who 
has  mixed  among  his  sex  in  the  ball- 
room and  not  heard  similar  remarks 
made.  All  this  is,  it  seems  to  me, 
ample  proof  of  the  fact  which  I  set 
out   to    demonstrate,    namely,  that   the 


THE   woman's    part.  67 

lechery  of  the  waltz  is  not  confined  to 
the  males,  but  is  consciously  partici- 
pated in  by  the  females,  and  if  further 
evidence  be  needed,  then,  I  say,  take 
the  best  of  all — watch  the  dancers  at 
their  sport — mark  well  the  faces,  the 
contortions  of  body  and  limb,  and  be 
convinced  against  your  will.  But  even 
over  and  beyond  this,  I  shall  now  lay 
before  you  a  kind  of  testimony  which 
you  will  be  surprised  to  find  brought 
to  bear  on  the  case. 

Shortly  after  I  had  determined  to 
publish  a  protest  against  the  abomina- 
tions of  the  waltz,  it  became  plainly 
apparent  to  me  that  I  must  if  possible 
obtain  the  views  on  the  subject  of  some 
intelligent  and  well  known  lady,  whose 
opinion  would  be  received  with  respect 
by  all  the  world.  With  this  end  in 
view,  I  addressed  one  of  the  most  emi- 
nent and  renowned  women  of  America. 
I  could  not  fortell  the  result  of  such  a 


68  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

Step,  I  certainly  did  not  expect  it  to  be 
what  it  is,  I  hardly  dared  to  hope  that 
she  would  accede  to  my  request  in  any 
shape.  But  I  knew  that  if  she  did 
speak,  it  would  be  according  to  her 
honest  convictions,  and  I  resolved  in 
that  event  to  publish  her  statement 
whatever  it  might  be.  This  lady  freely 
and  generously  offered  me  the  use  of 
her  name,  and  as  this  would  be  of  great 
value  to  my  undertaking,  I  had  origi- 
nally intended  to  print  it ;  but  upon 
consideration  I  have  concluded  that  it 
would  be  a  poor  return  for  her  kindness 
and  self-devotion,  to  subject  her  to  the 
fiery  ordeal  of  criticism  she  would  in 
that  case  have  to  endure,  and  for  this 
reason,  and  this  only,  I  withhold  her 
name  for  the  present.  But  I  do  earn- 
estly assure  the  reader  that  if  ever  the 
words  of  a  great  and  good  woman  de- 
served respectful  attention,  it  is  these : — 
''You    ask   me   to   say  what  I  think 


A   woman's   EXPERIEiSrCE.  69 

about  'round  dances/  I  am  glad  of  the 
opportunity  to  lay  my  opinion  on  that 
subject  before  the  world;  though,  in- 
deed I  scarcely  know  what  I  can  write 
which  you  have  not  probably  already 
written.  I  will,  however,  venture  to  lay 
bare  a  young  girls  heart  and  mind  by 
giving  you  my  own  experience  in  the 
days  when  I  waltzed. 

"In  those  times  I  cared  little  for 
Polka  or  Varsovienne,  and  still  less 
for  the  old-fashioned  'Money  Musk' 
or  'Virginia  Reel,'  and  wondered  what 
people  could  find  to  admire  in  those 
'slow  dances.'  But  in  the  soft  float- 
ing of  the  waltz  I  found  a  strange 
pleasure,  rather  difficult  to  intelligibly 
describe.  The  mere  anticipation  flut- 
tered my  pulse,  and  when  my  partner 
approached  to  claim  my  promised  hand 
for  the  dance  I  felt  my  cheeks  glow  a 
little  sometimes,  and  I  could  not  look 
him  in  the  eyes  with  the  same  frank 
gaiety  as  heretofore. 


70  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

"But  the  climax  of  my  confusion 
was  reached  when,  folded  in  his  warm 
embrace,  and  giddy  with  the  whirl, 
a  strange,  sweet  thrill  would  shake 
me  from  head  to  foot,  leaving  me 
weak  and  almost  powerless  and  really 
almost  obliged  to  depend  for  support 
upon  the  arm  which  encircled  me.  If 
my  partner  failed  from  ignorance,  lack 
of  skill,  or  innocence,  to  arouse  these, 
to  me,  most  pleasurable  sensations,  I 
did  not  dance  with  him  the  second 
time. 

"I  am  speaking  openly  and  frankly, 
and  when  I  say  that  I  did  not  understand 
what  I  felt,  or  what  were  the  real  and 
greatest  pleasures  I  derived  from  this  so- 
called  dancing,  I  expect  to  be  believed. 
But  if  my  cheeks  grew  red  with  uncom- 
prehended  pleasure  then,  they  grow  pale 
with  shame  to-day  when  I  think  of  it 
all.  It  was  the  physical  emotions  en- 
gendered  by  the   magnetic    contact   of 


A  "sweet  girl  graduate/'        71 

strong  men  that  I  was  enamoured  of — 
not  of  the  dance,  nor  even  of  the  men 
themselves. 

"Thus  I  became  abnormally  devel- 
oped in  my  lowest  nature.  I  grew 
bolder,  and  from  being  able  to  return 
shy  glances  at  first,  was  soon  able  to 
meet  more  daring  ones,  until  the  waltz 
became  to  me  and  whomsoever  danced 
with  me,  one  lingering,  sweet,  and  purely 
sensual  pleasure,  where  heart  beat  against 
heart,  hand  was  held  in  hand,  and  eyes 
looked  burning  words  which  lips  dared 
not  speak. 

"All  this  while  no  one  said  to  me: 
you  do  wrong;  so  I  dreamed  of  sweet 
words  whispered  during  the  dance, 
and  often  felt  while  alone  a  thrill  of  joy 
indescribable  yet  overpowering  when  my 
mind  would  turn  from  my  studies  to 
remember  a  piece  of  temerity  of  unusual 
grandeur  on  the  part  of  one  or  another 
of  my  cavaliers. 


72  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

**  Girls  talk  to  each  other.  I  was  still 
a  school  girl  although  mixing  so  much 
with  the  world.  We  talked  together. 
We  read  romances  that  fed  our  romantic 
passions  on  seasoned  food,  and  none 
but  ourselves  knew  what  subjects  we 
discussed.  Had  our  parents  heard  us 
they  would  have  considered  us  on  the 
high  road  to  ruin. 

''Yet  we  had  been  taught  that  it  was 
right  to  dance;  our  parents  did  it,  our 
friends  did,  and  we  were  permitted.  I  will 
say  also  that  all  the  girls  with  whom  I 
associated,  with  the  exception  of  one,  had 
much  the  same  experience  in  dancing; 
felt  the  same  strangely  sweet  emotions, 
and  felt  that  almost  imperative  necessity 
for  a  closer  communion  than  that  which 
even  the  freedom  of  a  waltz  permits, 
without  Jcnowmg  exactly  why,  or  even 
comprehending  what. 

*^' Married  now,  with  home  and  children 
around  me,  I  can  at  least  thank  God  for 


EXPERIENTIA    DOCET.  73 

the  experience  which  will  assuredly  be 
the  means  of  preventing  my  little  daugh- 
ters from  indulging  in  any  such  danger- 
ous pleasure.  But,  if  a  young  girl,  pure 
and  innocent  in  the  beginning,  can  be 
brought  to  feel  what  I  have  confessed  to 
have  felt,  what  must  be  the  experience 
of  a  married  woman  ?  She  knows  what 
every  glance  of  the  eye,  every  bend  of 
the  head,  every  close  clasp  means,  and 
knowing  that  reciprocates  it  and  is  led 
by  swifter  steps  and  a  surer  path  down 
the  dangerous,  dishonorable  road. 

"•  I  doubt  if  my  experience  will  be  of 
much  service,  but  it  is  the  candid  truth, 
from  a  woman  who,  in  the  cause  of  all 
the  young  girls  who  may  be  contaminat- 
ed, desires  to  show  just  to  what  extent 
a  young  mind  may  be  defiled  by  the 
injurious  effects  of  round  dances.  I 
have  not  hesitated  to  lay  bare  what  are 
a  young  girls  most  secret  thoughts,  in 
the  hope  that  people  will  stop  and  con- 


74  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

sider,  at  least  before  handing  their  lilHes 
of  purity  over  to  the  arms  of  any  one 
who  may  choose  to  blow  the  frosty 
breath  of  dishonor  on  their  petals." 

And  this  is  the  experience  of  a  woman 
of  unusual  strength  of  character — one 
whose  intellect  has  gained  her  a  world- 
wide celebrity  and  earned  for  her  the 
respect  and  attention  of  multitudes 
wherever  the  English  language  is  spok- 
en. What  hope  is  there  then  for  ordi- 
nary women  to  escape  from  this  mental 
and     physical     contamination  ?      which 

**  Turns — if  nothing  else — at  least  our  heads.** 

None  whatever. 


^S^^^j*t 


CHAPTER  VI. 


'*I1  fault  bien  dire  que  la  danse  est  quasi  le  comble  de  tou8 
vices  *  -x-  *  *  c'cst  le  commencement  d'une  ordure, 
laquelle  je  ne  veux  declarer.  Pour  en  parler  rondement,  il  m'est 
advis  que  c'est  une  maniere  de  tout  villaine  et  barbare  *  *  * 
A  quoy  servent  tant  de  saults  que  font  ces  filles,  soustenues  des 
compagnons  par  soubs  les  brasj  a  fin  de  regimber  plus  hault? 
Quel  plalsir  prennent  ces  sauterelles  a  se  termenter  ainsi  et 
demener  la  pluspart  des  nuicts  sans  se  souler  ou  lasser  de  la 
danse  ?"  L.  Vives. 


ANY  Will  say — have  said — By- 
ron wrote  against  the  waltz 
because  a  physical  infirmity 
prevented  him  from  waltzing — 
that  ne  is  not  a  proper  person  to  quote 
as  an  example  for  others  to  follow.  It 
must  be  conceded  that  whatever  his  mo- 
tive was,  he  well  knew  what  he  was 
writing  about,  and  whatever  his  practices 


76  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

may  have  been  in  other  respects,  It  is  to 
his  credit  that  his  sense  of  the  proprie- 
ties of  Hfe  were  not  so  blunted  as  to 
render  him  blind  to  this  cause  of  gross 
public  licentiousness. 

But,  unlike  Byron,  I  have,  as  has 
been  stated  before,  practical  experience^ 
and  positive  knowledge  in  the  matter 
whereof  I  speak,  and  am  possessed  of 
the  most  convincing  assurances  that  my 
utterances  will  be  received  with  joy  by 
thousands  of  husbands  and  fathers  whose 
views  have  been  down-trodden — their 
sentiments  disregarded,  and  their  notions 
of  morality  held  up  to  scorn  because 
they  disapprove  of  this  "innocent  amuse- 
ment/' 

It  has  also  been  before  said  that  this 
vice  was  ''seemingly  tolerated  by  all,'' 
but  I  am  proud  to  say  that  the  placard 
posted  about  the  streets  announcing  a 
''  Sunday    School    Festival — dancing 

TO    COMMENCE    AT     NINE     o'CLOCK,"     doeS 


DANCING    AND    CONFIRMATION.         "]"] 

not  reflect  the  sentiments  of  the  entire 
community;  that  in  all  the  marts  of 
business,  in  every  avenue  of  trade,  in 
counting-house  and  in  work-shop,  men 
are  to  be  found  who  would  shrink  with 
horror  from  exposing  their  wives  and 
daughters  to  the  allurements  of  the  dance- 
hall — men  who  form  a  striking  contrast 
to  those  simpering  simpletons  who  sym- 
pathize with  their  feelings,  but  have  not 
the  courage  to  maintain  the  family  honor 
by  enforcing  their  views  in  the  domestic 
circle. 

It  is  only  a  few  years  since  the  Frank- 
fort Journal  announced  that  the  author- 
ities had  decided,  in  the  interest  of  good 
morals,  that  in  future  dancing-masters 
should  not  teach  their  art  to  children 
who  had  not  yet  been  confirmed.  The 
teaching  of  dancing  in  boarding-houses 
and  hotels  was  also  forbidden.  It  is  not 
desirable  that  the  law  should  interfere 
with  purely  domestic  affairs,  but  really  it 


78  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

seems  as  if  those  unfortunate  parents  and 
husbands  who  shudder  at  the  evil  but 
are  awed  into  silence  by  ridicule  or  open 
rebellion,  stand  in  as  urgent  need  of  the 
law  s  assistance  as  the  Magdeburg  god- 
fathers and  godmothers. 

I  well  know  that  many  young  ladies 
profess  entire  innocence  of  any  impure 
emotions  during  all  this  ''  palming  work." 

To  them  let  me  say:  If  you  are  so 
sluggish  in  your  sensibilities  as  this  would 
imply,  then  you  are  not  fit  subjects  for 
the  endearments  of  married  life,  and  can 
give  but  poor  promise  of  securing  your 
husband  s  affection.  But  if  on  the  other 
hand  (as  in  most  cases  is  true)  you  ex- 
perience the  true  bliss  of  this  intoxication, 
then  indeed  will  the  ground  of  your 
emotions  be  pretty  well  worked  over 
before  you  reach  the  hymeneal  altar,  and 
the  nuptial  couch  will  have  but  little  to 
offer  for  your  consideration  with  which 
you  are  not  already  familiar. 


DEMAND    AND    SUPPLY.  79 

A  friend  at  my  elbow  remarks.  *'I 
agree  with  you  perfectly,  but  my  wife 
likes  these  dances, — sees  no  harm  in 
them,  and  her  concluding  and  unan- 
swerable argument  is,  that  if  I  danced 
them,  I  should  like  them  just  as  well  as 
she  does.''  The  truth  of  this  latter 
statement  depends  upon  your  moral 
perceptions.  There  is  but  one  answer 
to  the  former,  given  by  ''Othello/* 

**  This  is  the  curse  of  Marriage  : 
We  call  these  delicate  creatures  ours — 
Bat  not  their  appetites," 

If  you  are  so  lax  in  your  attention — 
so  deficient  in  those  qualities  which  go 
to  make  a  woman  happy — that  she  seeks 
the  embrace  of  other  men  to  supply  the 
more  than  half  acknowledged  need — if 
this  be  true,  my  friend,  I  leave  the  mat- 
ter with  you — it  belongs  to  another  class 
of  subjects,  treated  of  by  Doctor  Acton 
of  London — I  refer  you  to  his  able 
works. 


8o  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

Another  says:  Both  my  wife  and  I 
enjoy  these  dances.  We  see  no  par- 
ticular harm  in  them — ''to  the  pure  all 
things  are  pure.''  The  very  same  thing 
may  be  said  by  the  habituds  of  other 
haunts  of  infamy — 

*'  Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien. 
As,  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen  j 
Yet  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  her  face. 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace." 

There  is,  again,  a  very  large  class  of 
dancers  who  frankly  allow  that  there  is 
immorality  in  the  modern  waltz,  but  in- 
sist that  this  immorality  need  not  be, 
and  by  them  is  not,  practised.  They 
dance — but  very  properly,  you  know. 
These  are  the  Pharisees  who  beat  their 
breasts  in  public  places,  crying  fie!  upon 
their  neighbors,  and  bravo!  upon  them- 
selves. 

Of  course,  they  will  tell  you,  there  are 
persons  who  are  excited  impurely  by  the 
waltz,  but  these  are  persons  who  would 


IDEAS    OF    PURITY.  8 1 

be  immoral  under  any  circumstances. 
'*  To  the  pure  all  things  are  pure."  It 
is  astonishing  how  apt  they  are  with 
these  tongue-worn  aphorisms.  To  the 
pure  all  things  are  pure, — yes,  but  purity 
is  only  a  relative  virtue  whose  value  is 
fixed  by  the  moral  standard  of  the  in- 
dividual. What  would  be  pure  to  some 
would  be  grossly  impure  to  others,  and 
when  you  place  your  wife  or  daughter 
in  the  arms  of  such  salacious  gentry  as 
have  been  described  in  the  foregoing 
pages  are  you  not  pretty  much  in  the 
position  of  the  gentleman  who  when 
gravely  informed  by  a  guest  who  was 
taking  an  unaccountably  hasty  leave 
that  his  (the  host's)  wife  had  lewdly  en- 
treated him,  replied  :  *'  But,  my  friend, 
that  is  nothing ;  your  wife  did  as  much 
for  me  when  I  visited  you  last  year.'' 
This  gentleman,  remember,  was  also 
ready  to  add  :  **  to  the  pure  all  things 
are  pure."     The  Waltz  should  assuredly 


82  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

have  figured  among  the  "pure  impuri- 
ties" of  Petronius. 

But  even  if  it  be  allowed  that  a  lady 
can  waltz  virtuously,  I  have  already 
shown  that  in  that  case  she  must  not 
dance  welL  And  what  a  pitiful  specta- 
cle, surely,  is  that  of  a  lady  trying  "how 
not  to  do  it" — converting  her  natural 
grace  into  clumsiness  in  order  that  she 
may  do  an  indecent  thing  decently,  and 
remain 

"  Warm  but  not  wanton ;  dazzled,  but  not  blind.'* 

But  perhaps  she  cannot  waltz.  In  that 
case  how  long  will  it  take  her  to  learn  ? 
Will  not  one  single  dance  lower  her 
standard  of  purity  if  her  partner  happens 
to  be  one  of  the  adepts  I  have  de- 
scribed ? 

"  But,"  cries  the  fair  dancer  "  you 
must  remember  that  no  lady  will  permit 
herself  to  be  introduced  to,  or  accept  as  a 
partner,  any  but  a  gentleman,  who  she  is 
sure  will  treat  her  with  becoming  respect.'* 


GENTLEMANLY    PARTNERS.  83 

I  will  not  Stop  to  inquire  what  her 
definition  of  a  ''gentleman''  is — whether 
the  most  courteous  and  urbane  of  men 
may  not  be  a  most  desperate  roue  at 
heart.  The  attitude  and  contact  are 
the  same  in  any  case,  and  if  it  needs 
must  be  that  a  husband  is  to  see  his 
wife  folded  in  the  close  embrace  of 
another  man,  is  it  any  consolation  for 
him  to  know  that  her  partner  is  eligible 
as  a  rival  in  other  respects  than  his  nim- 
ble feet — that  he  who  is  brushing  the 
bloom  from  his  peach  is  at  least  his 
equal  ?  Can  you  stop  to  consider  the 
intellectual  accomplishments  and  social 
status  of  the  man  who  has  invaded  the 
sacred  domain  of  your  wife's  chamber  ? 
No — equally  unimportant  is  it  to  you, 
who  or  what  he  may  be — that  has  thus 
exercised  a  privilege  reserved  by  all 
pure-minded  women  for  their  husbands 
alone. 

But  in  this  matter  of  the  selection  of 


84  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

the  fittest  the  ladies  have  set  up  a  man 
of  straw,  which  I  must  proceed  to 
demolish.  In  order  that  the  lawless 
contact  may  be  impartially  distributed, 
and  that  no  lady  may  be  free  to  choose 
whose  sexual  magnetism  she  shall  ab- 
sorb, we  have  imported  from  across  the 
water  a  foreign  variety  of  the  abomina- 
tion, by  which  ingenious  contrivance  the 
color  of  the  ribbon  a  lady  chances  to 
hold  determines  who  shall  have  the  use 
of  her  body  in  the  waltz,  and  places  her 
in  the  pitiable  predicament  of  the  *'poore 
bryde"  at  ancient  French  weddings,  who, 
as  we  read  in  Christen,  ''  State  of  Mat- 
rimony," must  "kepe  foote  with  all  dan- 
cers, and  refuse  none,  how  scabbed,  foule, 
droncken,  rude,  and  shameless  soever  he 
be." 

Nor  are  even  the  square  dances  any 
longer  left  as  a  refuge  for  the  more 
modest,  for  to  such  a  pitch  has  the  pas- 
sion   for    this    public    sexual    intimacy 


THE   WALTZ    QUADRILLE.  85 

come,  that  the  waltz  is  now  inseparably 
wedded  to  the  quadrille.  Even  the  old 
fogies  are  sometimes  trapped  by  this 
device.  A  quadrille  is  called  and  they 
take  their  places  feeling  quite  safe. 
** First  Gfouple  forward!''  "Cross  over!'' 
''Change  partners!"  ''Waltz  up  and 
down  the  centre!"  "Change  over!" 
"All  hands  waltz  round  the  outside!" 
and  before  they  know  it  their  sedate 
notions  are  lost  in  the  "waltz  quadrille." 
It  may  be  said  that  every  arrangement 
of  the  dance  looks  to  an  "equitable" 
distribution  of  each  lady's  favors.  It  is 
a  recognized  fact  that  a  lady  dancing 
repeatedly  with  the  same  gentleman 
shows  a  marked  preference  thereby — - 
and  he  is  deemed  rude  and  selfish  who 
attempts  to  monoplize  his  affianced,  or 
shows  reluctance  in  resigning  her  to  the 
arms  of  another. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


**  Transformed  all  wives  to  Dalilahs, 

Whose  husbands  were  not  for  the  cause  j 
And  turned  the  men  to  ten-hornM  cattle, 
Because  they  went  not  out  to  battle." 

Samuel  Butler. 
% 

OME  time  ago  a  lady  friend  said 
to  me:  *'How  is  it  that  while 
so  many  of  you  gentlemen  are 
fond  of  dancing  until  you  are 
married,  yet  from  that  moment  few 
of  you  can  be  induced  to  dance  any 
more.  In  fact  it  is  a  fraud  perpetrated 
upon  young  ladies;  you  fall  in  love  with 
them  in  the  ball  room,  you  court  them 
there,  you  marry  them  there,  and  they 
naturally  think  you  will  continue  to  take 


WIVES    SUPPLANT    WALTZES.  87 

them  there.  But  no — thenceforth  they 
must  Stay  at  home,  or  if  you  are  induced 
to  go  occasionally,  you  are  as  cross  and 
ill-natured  about  it  as  possible ;  as 
though  it  was  something  dreadful.  If 
the  dancing-hall  is  good  enough  to  get 
a  wife  in,  is  it  not  good  enough  to  take 
a  wife  to?'' 

My  dear  Jady,  said  I,  you  have  stated 
the  case  with  a  fairness  not  often  met 
with  in  an  opponent.  There  can  be  no 
stronger  evidence  (none  other  is  re- 
quired) to  establish  the  sexualism  of  the 
popular  dance  than  that  which  you  have 
just  cited.  The  privileges  of  matrimony 
relieve  the  necessity  for  the  dance.  The 
lover  is  compelled  to  share  that  which 
the  husband  considers  all  his  own. 
Those  who,  while  single,  were  most 
deeply  versed  in  the  mysteries  and 
pleasures  of  the  waltz  are,  when  mar- 
ried, the  first  to  proclaim  their  abhor- 
rence of  it,  too  often,  it  is  true,  in  a  mild 
and  impotent  protest,  but  not  always. 


88  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

Is  the  reader  acquainted  with  Boye- 
sens  novel  called  *'Gunnar?"  If  so  he 
will  remember  that  Ragnhild  was  to  wed 
Lars  under  the  pressure  of  parental  au- 
thority. She  preferred,  however,  the 
valiant,  dancing  Gunnar.  '*Ha!  ha!  ha!" 
cried  he,  ''strike  up  a  tune  and  that  a 
right  lusty  one!"  The  music  struck  up, 
he  swung  upon  his  heel,  caught  the  girl 
who  stood  nearest  him  round  the  waist; 
and  whirled  away  with  her.  Suddenly 
he  stopped  and  gazed  right  into  her  face, 
and  who  should  it  be  but  Ragnhild.  She 
begged  and  tried  to  release  herself  from 
his  arm,  but  he  lifted  her  from  the  floor, 
made  another  leap,  and  danced  away,  so 
that  the  floor  shook  under  them." 

"Gunnar,  Gunnar,"  whispered  she, 
''please,  Gunnar,  let  me  go" — he  heard 
nothing.  "Gunnar,"  begged  she  again, 
now  already  half  surrendering,  "only 
think  what  mother  would  say  if  she 
were  here."     But  now  she  began  to  feel 


IN    THE    TOILS.  89 

the  spell  of  the  dance.  The  walls,  the 
roof,  and  the  people  began  to  whirl 
round  her  in  a  strange,  bewildering  cir- 
cle; at  one  moment  the  music  seemed 
to  be  winging  its  way  to  her  from  an 
unfathomable  depth  in  an  inconceivable, 
measureless  distance,  and  in  the  next  it 
was  roaring  and  booming  in  her  ears 
with  the  rush  and  din  of  an  infinite  cat- 
aract of  tone.  Unconsciously  her  feet 
moved  to  its  measure,  her  heart  beat  to 
it,  a7td  she  forgot  her  scrupleSy  her  fear, 
and  everything  but  him  in  the  bliss  of 
the  dance. 

Gunnar  knew  how  to  tread  the  spring- 
ing dance,  and  no  one  would  deny  him 
the  rank  of  the  first  dancer  in  the 
valley,  so,  it  was  a  dance  worth  seeing, 
and  of  the  girls,  there  was  scarcely  one 
who  did  not  wish  herself  in  the  happy 
Ragnhild  s  place  " — (of  course  they  did.) 
After  the  music  had  ceased,  it  was  some 
time    before    Ragnhild    fully    recovered 


go  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

her  senses  —  (quite  likely) ;  she  still 
clung  fast  to  Gunnar's  arm,  the  floor 
seemed  to  be  heaving  and  sinking  under 
her — (quite  common  in  such  cases),  and 
the  space  was  filled  with  a  vague,  dis- 
tant hum."     (Why  not  ?) 

Later,  the  gleaming  knife  in  the  hands 
of  Lars,  showed  that  he  but  too  plainly 
understood  the  nature  of  the  perform- 
ance in  which  his  future  wife  had  been 
engaged.  And  the  sequel  well  attests, 
that  his  happiness  did  not  increase  with 
his  knowledge.  Even  the  vigor  of  a 
NoiVegian  climate  was  not  sufficient  to 
cool  his  fury.  What  a  promising  field 
for  future  operations  must  sunnier 
climes  present  for  such  enterprising 
young  gentlemen. 

Follow  the  subject  a  little  further  and 
it  will  be  seen  that  Ragnhild  lost  more 
than  her  head  in  the  bewildering  whirl. 
Now  let  me  ask  any  father  or  mother 
(or  husband  if  you  will), — any  man  pos- 


WALTZING    MATRONS.  9 1 

sessing  a  grain  of  common  sense,  if 
Ragnhild  was  in  a  safe  condition  to  be 
shown  by  Gunnar,  to  one  of  our  com- 
modious carriages  and  driven  to  her 
home  (perhaps  miles  away)  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning  ? 

*•  Lead  us  not  into  temptation." 

Yet  this  is  done — is  permitted  by  very 
many  of  our  so-called  *' prudent  parents" 
and  while  they  are  crying  out  about 
*' social  evils,"  are  doing  all  in  their 
power  to  furnish  recruits  for  the  great 
army  of  the  infamous. 

"  Deliver  us  from  evil." 

.  There  are  two  types  of  married  ladies 
who  practise,  and  of  course  enjoy,  the 
waltz,  and  lest  either  might  discover  the 
portrait  of  the  other  and  take  offence 
that  her  own  lovely  face  was  not  used  to 
adorn  these  pages,  each  shall  have  a 
separate  notice.  They  will  probably 
have    already    recognized    portraits    of 


92  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

themselves  in  this  volume,  but  the  object 
here  is  more  particularly  to  distinguish 
between  the  two. 

The  first  of  these  we  may  safely  call 
semi-respectable — she  is  so  partly  from 
necessity,  partly  from  choice  —  from 
choice  because  she  regards  it  as  the 
"proper  thing"  that  her  husband  should 
dance  attendance  while  she  dances 
something  else,  during  the  performance 
of  which,  the  poet  tells  us, 

"  The  fair  one's  breast 
Gives  all  it  can  and  bids  us  take  the  rest." 

She  has  not  yet  quite  reached  that 
stage  of  shamelessness  when  she  can  ca- 
rouse the  entire  night  without  some 
lingering  regard  for  what  Mrs.  Grundy 
will  say;  besides  this,  she  is  not  quite 
sure  of  her  position,  and  does  not  I:now 
exactly  how  much  her  husband  will 
bear.  She  is  afflicted  with  a  bare  sus- 
picion that  his  docile  nature  might  be 
over  taxed — that  in  the  pigeon  holes  of 


FREE   AND    INDEPENDENT.  93 

his  dull  cranium  might  be  found  a  desire 
to  make  it  rather  lively  if  too  openly 
slighted.  *'Oh,  no,"  she  reasons,  "take 
him  along  —  his  presence  makes  it  all 
right  —  his  smile  gives  sanction  to  all 
that  may  happen.  When  he  is  with  me 
who  dare  complain  ?'' 

But  the  woman  whom  it  would  be  my 
joy  to  describe,  whose  perfections  surpass 
description,  is  moved  by  no  such  paltry 
considerations.  She  glories  in  an  inde- 
pendence which  scorns  all  such  petty 
restraints.  She  it  is  whose  insight  into 
domestic  politics  descries  the  true  posi- 
tion, "to  go  with  her  husband  is  a  bore'' 
—his  very  presence  is  a  hindrance  to  a 
full  and  free  exercise  of  all  the  privileges 
of  the  "  Boston  Dip."  She  can  find  it 
in  her  heart  now  to  laugh  at  the  ridicu- 
lous vow  she  made  when  playing  that 
old-fashioned  farce  before  the  altar — the 
vow  to  "  leave  all  others  and  cleave  to 
him    alone.*'     How     much    pleasanter. 


94  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

surely,  to  cleave  and  cling  to  all  others, 
and  leave  him  alone.  She  may  be 
"too  ill"  to  attend  with  her  husband; 
but  let  "  Mr.  Nimblefoot" — sprightly  of 
heel  and  addled  of  brain — come  along, 
with  an  invitation  to  attend  a  ball,  and 
in  a  trice  she  so  far  recovers  her  declin- 
ing health  as  to  make  such  an  elaborate 
toilet  that 

**  Not  Cleopatra  on  her  galley's  deck, 
Displays  so  much  of  leg,  or  more  of  neck." 

Then  it  is,  when  with  a  disregard  for 
neighborly  comments  which  would  do 
credit  to  a  better  cause,  we  see  her  in  all 
her  naked  loveliness.  No  vulgar  re- 
straint upon  her  movements,  no  "green- 
eyed  monster''  to  inquire  into  her 
absence  or  take  note  of  her  doings. 
None  to  say 

"Methinksthe  glare  of  yonder  chandelier 
Shines  much  too  far — or  I  am  much  too  near.*' 

But  a  more  detailed  account  of  this 
lady  and  of  "  how  it  all  came  about,"  is 


TRUE    HEROINES.  95 

it  not  written  in  the  chronicles  of  the 
Courts  having  ''  original  jurisdiction  "  in 
cases  of  divorce  ? 

Who,  then,  after  reviewing  this  ghastly 
procession  of  moral  lepers,  shall  find 
words  wherewith  to  express  his  reverence 
and  admiration  for  those  pure-minded 
girls  and  wom.en  who  refuse  to  dance — 
071  principle !  No  renowned  hero  of 
ancient  or  modern  times  has  a  better 
right  to  claim  the  bays  than  the  woman 
who,  seeing  the  degradation  of  the  mod- 
ern dance,  has  the  independence  and 
moral  courage  to  avoid  it.  Her  heroism 
is  greater  than  you  might  suppose,  for 
she  is  sorely  tempted  to  do  wrong  on 
the  one  hand,  and  severely  punished  for 
doing  right  on  the  other.  Tempted — 
because  she  is  as  fair  and  graceful  as  her 
less  modest  sisters,  and  naturally  as  fond 
oi  man's  admiration,  and  as  sensible  of 
physical  pleasure  as  they;  punished — by 
the  sneers  of  women  who  call  her  ''prude" 


96  THE    DANCE   OF    DEATH. 

and  ''  wall-flower,"  and  by  the  slights  put 
upon  her  by  men  who  avoid  her  because 
she  ''doesn't  dance."  In  spite  of  the 
example  set  by  those  whom  she  has 
perhaps  been  taught  to  regard  as  wiser 
and  better  than  herself,  she  yet  resists 
the  fascination  of  the  Social  Basilisk 
from  pure  pride  of  womanhood,  and 
sacrifices  her  inclinations  upon  the  altar 
of  modesty. 

These  are  the  wives  and  daughters 
who  do  honor  to  their  families.  Their 
reward  is  the  respect  and  admiration  of 
all  honorable  men. 

*'  My  child,"  said  a  friend  of  mine  to 
his  daughter  who  had  declined  to  attend 
a  "  sociable  "  on  the  ground  that  dancing 
was  improper,  ''  my  child,  I  honor  your 
judgment,  and  let  me  give  you  a  father  s 
advice:  never  alloAv  a  mans  arm  to  en- 
circle your  waist  till  you  are  married, 
and  then  only  your  husband! sT  And 
this  advice  I  re-echo  to  all  young  ladies. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

**  Illic  Hippolitum  pone,  Priapus  crit.** 

Ovid. 

•*Le  Provcrbe  qui  a  couru  i  Tegard  des  Cloitres,  dangereux 
<omme  le  retour  de  tnatinesy  en  pouvoit  produire  un  autre  avec  un 
petit  changement,  dangereux  cotnme  le  retour  du  balJ** 

Bayle. 


HERE  are,  of  course,  many 
other  classes  of  waltzers  to 
whom  I  might  revert,  though 
I  have  sought  in  vain  for  a 
single  one  that  is  entirely  free  from  re- 
proach. It  is  however  time  that  the 
evil  should  be  viewed  from  other  points. 
Let  us  consider  some  of  its  results  and 
effects. 

I    have    repeatedly   declared,    and    I 
now   do   so   again   that   the   waltz  has 


98  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

grown  to  be  a  purely  sexual  enjoymeiit^ 
That  I  may  not  be  supposed  to  stand 
alone  in  this  assertion  I  will  again  quote 
the  words  of  the  worthy  clergyman 
before  referred  to.     He  writes  : 

The  dance  "  consists  substantially  of  a 
system  of  means  contrived  with  more 
than  human  ingenuity  to  excite  the  in- 
stincts of  sex  to  action,  however  subtile 
and  disguised  at  the  moment,  in  its  se- 
quel the  most  bestial  and  degrading." 
And  again:  ''it  is  a  usage  that  regularly 
titillates  and  tantalises  an  animal  appe- 
tite as  insatiable  as  hunger,  more  cruel 
than  revenge." 

Gail  Hamilton,  to  whose  words  most 
of  us  will  attach  some  weight,  I  think, 
in  a  contribution  to  an  Eastern  journal, 
says:  ''The  thing  in  its  very  nature  is 
unclean  and  cannot  be  washed.  The 
very  pose  of  the  parties  suggests 
impurity."  But  I  must  go  further  than 
this,  and  assert  that  the  pose  and  motions 


*'TO    THE    PURE,      ETC.  99 

of  the  parties  cannot  even  be  spoken  of 
by  a  young  lady  without  danger  of  com- 
mitting a  double  entendre  at  which  many 
a  *'  nice  young  man "  will  laugh  in  his 
sleeve. 

I  will  illustrate  this  statement:  A 
charming  young  lady,  just  arrived  from 
abroad,  informed  me  that  we  do  not 
execute  these  new  round  dances  "quite 
right"  in  this  country.  She  describes  it 
as  having  **two  forward  and  two  back- 
ward movements,  then  sideways,  with  a 
whirl."  But  she  will  ''show  me  how  to 
do  it  on  the  first  opportunity." 

"That  must,  indeed,  be  nicer  than  the 
way  we  do  it,"  said  I,  "though  I  have 
heard  of  a  similar  dance  in  the  Sand- 
wich Islands."  Yea,  verily,  "to  the  pure 
all  things  are  pure." 

What  says  St.  Aldegonde  in  a  letter 
written  as  long  ago  as  1577  to  Caspar 
Verheiden  ?  He  says  that  he  approves 
of  the  course  adopted  by  the  Church  of 


I(X)  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

Geneva,  which  by  interdicting  the  dance 
has  abolished  many  filthy  abuses  of  daily 
occurrence;  it  being  the  custom  of  the 
men  to  take  young  girls  to  balls  at  night 
and  there  to  vex  them  by  lewd  postur- 
ing. No  one,  he  contends,  can  look  on 
at  such  a  spectacle  without  sin;  what 
then  shall  we  say  of  those  who  take  part 
in  it.  Much  more  he  adds,  and  when  I 
say  that  I  dare  not  translate  it  here,  the 
reader  will  be  ready  to  believe  that  the 
worthy  Saint  is  pretty  plain-spoken  in 
his  strictures  on  the  dance.  But  he  is  no 
more  so  than  is  Lambert  Daneau  in  his 
*'Traite  des  Danses,"  the  perusal  of 
which  might  do  some  modern  dancers 
good.  And  yet  both  these  old  writers 
only  saw  the  play  of  Hamlet  with  Ham- 
let left  out,  for  the  Waltz  did  not  exist  in 
their  day. 

Now,  this  being  the  case,  what  are  we 
to  suppose  are  its  effects  upon  those 
who  indulge  in  it  ?     Does  the   scandal 


WHAT    FOLLOWS  f  lOI 

end  in  the  ball  room,  or,  as  Byron  says, 
may  we  not  marvel 

"  If  nothing  follows  all  this  palming  work.*' 

and  do  we  not  feel  ourselves  constrained 
to  believe  his  assurance  that 

"  Something  does  follow  at  a  fitter  time." 

That  the  waltz  has  been  the  acknowl- 
edged avenue  to  destruction  for  great 
multitudes,  is  a  truth  burnt  into  the 
hearts  of  thousands  of  downcast  fathers 
and  broken-hearted  mothers ;  and  the 
husbands  are  legion  who  can  look  upon 
hearths  deserted  and  homes  left  desolate 
by  wives  and  daughters  who  have  been 
led  captive  by  this  magnificent  burst  of 
harmony  and  laying-on  of  hands. 

One  of  our  ablest  writers  says  :  "  it  is 
a  war  on  home,  it  is  a  war  on  physical 
health,  it  is  a  war  on  man  s  moral  nature; 
this  is  the  broad  avenue  through  which 
thousands  press  into  the  brothel."  The 
"dancing    hall    is    the  nursery   of  the 


I02  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

divorce  Court,  the  training  ship  of  pros- 
titution,  the  graduating  school  of  in- 
famy." 

Olaus  Magnus  tells  us  that  the  young 
people  of  the  North  danced  among  naked 
sword-blades  and  pointed  weapons  scat- 
tered upon  the  ground;  our  young  people 
dance  among  far  deadlier  dangers  than 
these. 

Think  of  it,  dear  reader,  picture  to 
yourself  the  condition  to  which  a  young 
girl  is  reduced  by  the  time  that  her  car- 
riage is  announced.  All  the  baser  in- 
stincts of  her  nature  are  aroused — to  use 
the  words  of  Erasmus  she  has  ''  a  pound 
of  passion  to  an  ounce  of  reason."  Ans- 
wer me,  is  she  not  now  in  a  fit  state  to 
fall  an  easy  prey  to  the  destroyer?  And 
yet  in  this  condition 

**  Hot  from  the  hands  promiscuously  applied 
Round  the  slight  waist  or  down  the  glowing  side,*' 

she  is  almost  borne  to  her  carriage  by 
an   escort,    "  flown  ■  with   insolence  and 


FUGE    QUiERERE  !  IO3 

wine  "  and  whose  condition  is  othei"wise 
similar  to  her  own,  except  that  the  ex- 
citement of  the  moment  makes  him  as 
bold  and  ardent,  as  it  renders  her  lan- 
guid and  compliant.  He  places  her 
panting  form  upon  the  soft  cushions, 
and  with  a  whispered  admonition  to  the 
coachman  not  to  drive  too  fast,  he  en- 
sconces himself  by  her  side.  But  here> 
as  upon  an  earlier  page,  we  must  leave 
them.  The  hour,  the  darkness,  every- 
thing is  propitious — it  is  little  short  of  a 
miracle  if  she  escapes. 

**  Look  out,  look  out  and  see 

What  object  this  may  be 

That  doth  perstringe  mine  eye ; 

A  gallant  lady  goes 

In  rich  and  gaudy  clothes, 

But  whither  away  God  knows.** 

But  let  us  charitably  suppose  that  the 
sequel  is  only  a  continuation  of  the  li- 
cense of  the  waltz,  and  that  she  reaches 
her  home  with  merely  the  smell  of  the 
fire  through  which  she  has  passed  upon 


I04  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

her  garments — let  us  suppose  that 
the  Ah  si  liceret  /  of  Caracalla  has  not 
been  answered  by  the  yielding  quic- 
quid  libet  licet  of  his  mother-in-law — 
and  what  is  the  result?  The  flame 
that  has  been  aroused  must  be  allayed. 
If  she  is  unmarried,  then  in  Gods  name 
let  us  inquire  no  farther;  but  if  she 
is  a  w4fe  then  is  the  dear  indul- 
gent husband  at  home  privileged  to 
meet  a  want  inspired  in  the  embrace  of 
"  the  first  dancer  in  the  valley,"  and  to 
enjoy  some  advantage,  at  least,  from  the 
peculiar  position  which  he  sustains  to- 
ward the  matronly  dancer. 

And  now  may  we  not  take  a  peep  at 
the  fair  danseuse  as  she  comes  into  the 
breakfast- room  at  noon  next  day.  Is 
this  broken-down,  used-up  creature  the 
radiant  beauty  of  the  night  before  1  Can 
it  be  that  that  "  healthful  recreation,*'  the 
Waltz,  has  painted  those  dark  circles 
round  her  eyes  and  planted  those  wrin- 
kles  on  her  brow  ? 


presto!  change!  105 

"Alas,  the  mother,  that  her  bare, 
If  she  could  stand  in  presence  there, 
In  that  wan  cheek  and  wasted  air 

She  would  not  know  her  child," 

She  IS  paying  now  for  the  sweetness 
of  **  stolen  waters ''  and  the  pleasantness 
of  bread  "eaten  in  secret/'  For  the 
next  week  what  pleasure  will  husband, 
father,  or  brother,  derive  from  her 
society.  She  is  ill  and  peevish — she  is 
damaged  both  in  body  and  soul.  For 
the  next  week,  did  I  say  ?  Well,  I 
meant  until  the  next  invitation  to  a 
dance  arrives.  That  is  the  magic  elixir 
that  will  brighten  the  dull  eyes  and  recall 
the  dead  smiles  to  life.  Then  invoking 
the  rejuvenating  spirit  of  the  cosmetic- 
box  and  tricked  out  in  the  finery  which 
those  most  near,  but  not  most  dear,  to 
her  have  toiled  to  purchase,  she  will 
sally  forth  to  lavish  upon  the  lechers  of 
the  ball-room  a  gracious  sweetness  which 
she  never  showed  at  home. 

But  where  is   Apollo  all   this   time  ? 


I06  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

We  left  him  burning  with  half  satiated 
lust  before  the  gate  of  his  paramour  s 
mansion.  Where  will  he  go  to  complete 
his  debauch  ?  At  what  strange  foun- 
tains will  he  quench  the  flame  that  is 
devouring  him  ?  Go  ask  the  harlot ! 
She  will  reap  the  harvest  that  has  ripened 
in  the  warm  embrace  of  maids  and 
mothers.  She  is  equally  fortunate  with 
the  husband  described  above.  Ah, 
well !  verily  it  is  an  ill  wind  that  blows 
nobody  good. 

The  Waltz  is,  therefore,  in  its  effects, 
fearfully  disastrous  to  both  sexes,  but 
nevertheless  the  woman  is  the  greater 
sufferer — physically,  because  what  is 
fatal  excess  for  a  woman  may  be  only 
hurtful  indulgence  for  a  man,  and  mor- 
ally, because  she  loses  that  without 
which  her  beauty  and  grace  are  but  a 
curse — man's  respect. 

And  her  punishment  is  just,  her  fault 
being  more  inexcusable  than  his.     For 


THE  WOMAN  AND  THE  MAN    lO/ 

woman  is  the  natural  and  acknowledged 
custodian  of  morals.  It  is  she  who  fixes 
the  stari'dard  of  modesty — a  variable 
standard,  it  is  true,  different  in  different 
ages  and  countries,  but  always  sufficiently 
well-defined.  She  draws  across  the  path 
of  passion,  lines  limiting,  on  the  one  hand, 
the  license  of  masculine  approach,  on  the 
other,  the  liberty  of  feminine  concession. 
To  a  certain  extent  man  may  blamelessly 
accept  whatever  privileges  she  is  pleased 
to  accord  him,  without  troubling  himself 
to  consider  "too  curiously"  their  con- 
sistency with  the  general  tenor  of  her 
decrees.  It  is  her  discretion  in  such 
matters  that  must,  in  a  large  way,  pre- 
serve the  race  from  fatal  excess.  When, 
therefore,  she  shamelessly  violates  this 
sacred  trust  which  nature  and  society 
have  confided  to  her,  it  is  to  be  expected 
that  the  ball-room  roud  should  regard 
her  as  something  lower  than  the  harlot, 
who  at  least  ministers  to  his  lusts  in  a 
natural  manner. 


I08  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

But,  what  IS  worse  still,  she  also  loses 
moral  caste  with  those  who  have  more 
than  a  negative  respect  for  honorable 
women.  For  even  your  gentleman  is 
no  professor  of  heroic  virtues,  and  the 
same  easy  courtesy  with  which  he  dis- 
misses the  soliciting  courtesan,  restrains 
him  from  wounding,  even  by  implica- 
tion, the  merely  facile  fair  being  whom 
favoring  fortune  has  as  yet  prevented 
from  taking  to  the  street.  He  dissem- 
bles his  disgust,  begs  the  honor  of  her 
hand  for  the  next  dance,  flutters  her 
pulses  to  her  souls  satisfaction,  and  re- 
gards her  ever  thereafter  with  tranquil, 
philosophical  contempt.  And  so  they 
come  to  mutually  despise  each  other;  she 
sets  no  value  on  his  flattering  praises,  he 
no  longer  cares  for  her  good  opinion — 
the  wine  of  woman's  approval  has  gone 
stale,  and  the  sunshine  of  man  s  admira- 
tion is  darkened  in  her  eyes. 


CHAPTER    IX. 


"So  she  looks  into  her  heart,  and  lo  !  Vacuca  sedes  et  inania 
arcana  *  ^fr  *  And  the  man  is  himself,  and  the  woman 
herself;  that  dream  of  love  is  over  as  everything  else  is  over  in 
life  J  as  flowers  and  fury,  as  griefs  and  pleasures  are  over.** 

Thackeray. 

**  Wir  haben  lang  genug  geliebt,  und  wollen  endlich  hasscn.'* 

George  Herwegh. 

UT  this  "innocent  amusement'* 
entails  worse  consequences  than 
these.  It  is  the  high-road  to  the 
divorce  court,  it  has  brought 
strife  and  misery  into  ten  thousand 
happy  homes;  truly  it  is  the  "abomina- 
tion that  maketh  desolation." 

Take  the  case  of  the  poor,  dull,  stupid 
Benedick  who,  like  Byron  with  his  club 
foot,  dances  not  at  all.     He  is  a  splendid 


no  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

man  of  business,  perhaps,  and  is  highly 
respected  on  change;  but  here,  in  the 
ball-room,  what  is  he?  A  dolt,  a  ninny, 
an  old  fogy,  a  nuisance — to  be  snubbed 
and  slighted  by  the  woman  he  calls  wife 
for  every  brainless  popingay  who 
**  dances  divinely."  He  has  been  proud 
to  toil  from  day  to  day  to  be  able  to 
purchase  costly  apparel  with  which  to 
adon^  this  far  better  half  of  his;  now  he 
has  the  felicity  of  seeing  the  fine  fruits 
of  his  labor  dangled  about  the  legs  of 
another  man;  he  had  supposed  her  the 
*'wife  of  his  bosom,"  yet,  behold!  she 
reclines  most  lovingly  on  the  bosom  of 
another;  she  is  the  mother  of  his  children, 
yet  as  she  quivers  in  her  partner  s  arms, 
her  face  is  troubled  with 

**The  half-told  wish  and  ill-dissembled  flame." 

He  has  pride  enough  to  attempt  to 
look  interested,  and  to  alifect  ignorance 
of  his  own  shame,  but  the  sham  is  ap- 
parent.    Note  how  uneasily  he  sits  upon 


ONE    OF    THE    MERRY-MAKERS.       I  I  I 

the  benches  provided  for  such  *' wall- 
flowers ''  as  himself.  Anyone  who  will 
take  the  trouble  to  observe  him,  can  see 
that  his  heart  is  not  in  the  waltz  in  which 
his  spouse  is  taking  such  a  lively  interest. 
Approach  him,  now,  and  tell  him  that  it 
is  a  very  nice  party,  and  that  he  seems 
to  be  enjoying  himself.  *'  Oh  very  nice,' 
he  answers  with  a  ghastly  grin  intended 
for  a  smile,  "  I  am  enjoying  it  greatly/' 
But  now  incidentally  remark  that  after 
all  you  have  no  great  liking  for  these 
"fancy  dances,''  and  see  how  quickly  a 
fellow-feeling  will  make  him  wondrous 
confidential,  as  he  answers: 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  I  don't  like  them 
at  all." 

Perhaps  you  have  known  him  when  a 
bachelor  and  have  seen  him  dance  then. 
You  mention  this  fact. 

"O  yes,"  he  answers,  "of  course  I 
used  to  dance;  but  can't  you  see  that 
there  is  a  mighty  deal  of  difference  be- 


112  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

tween  hugging  other  people  s  wives  and 
daughters  to  music,  and  taking  your  own 
wife  to  a  place  where  every  fellow  can 
press  her  to  his  bosom  and  dangle  his 
legs  among  her  petticoats  ?  No,  sir,  I  do 
not  like  it,  and  if  my  wife  thought  as  I 
do  about  it,  there  would  be  no  more 
dancing  in  our  family.  *  I  would  rather 
be  a  toad  and  feed  on  the  damp  vapor 
of  a  dungeon,  than  keep  a  corner  in  the 
thing  I  love  for  others'  uses.' " 

Follow  the  conversation  up  and  you 
will  find  that  if  ever  Sorrow  mocked  a 
festival  by  its  presence  it  is  in  the  per- 
son of  this  man.  He  is  not  jealous,  he 
is  outraged ;  all  the  finer  feelings  of  his 
nature  are  trampled  under  foot,  he  is 
grieved  and  deeply  wounded  beyond  re- 
covery. 

This  is  the  beginning  of  the  end  ;  she 
is  never  the  same  woman  to  him  here- 
after; he  may  smile  and  appear  careless, 
but  none  the  less  has  that  tiny  satin  slip- 


THE    END    OF    IT.  I  1 3 

per  crushed  all  the  fresh  love  from  his 
heart.  The  second  volume  of  his  Book 
of  Life  is  opened  ;  the  first  chapter  there- 
of being  headed  "  Estrangement,"  and 
the  last  ''  Divorce.'' 

And  this  is  not  an  exceptional  case ; 
the  writer  will  venture  the  assertion  that 
out  of  every  fifty  husbands  who  have 
dancing  wives,  there  are  at  least  a  dozen 
who  if  spoken  frankly  to  upon  the  sub- 
ject would  express  themselves  in  terms 
of  most  bitter  condemnation. 

And  what  kind  of  men  are  those  who 
do  7to^  object  to  see  their  wives  made 
common  property  in  this  manner  ? 
Well,  there  is  your  weak  good-natured 
husband,  who  would  willingly  suffer  any 
personal  annoyance  rather  than  thwart 
the  wishes  of  his  beloved  wife,  no  matter 
how  ill-advised  those  wishes  may  be. 

The  writer  is  personally  acquainted 
with  a  young  and  newly-married  man, 
whose  experience  will  illustrate  what  I 


114  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

have  just  said,  though  it  is  true  that  he 
eventually  came  to  see  the  error  of  his 
ways  He  had  the  misfortune  to  marry 
a  lady  who  was  excessively  fond  of 
dancing.  He  had  never  learned  to 
waltz  himself,  but  finding  it  impossible 
to  remain  a  looker-on  he  determined 
to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  the  intox- 
icating art.  He,  poor  fool,  imagined 
that  when  he  had  conquered  the  first 
elements  of  the  dance,  his  wife  would 
take  particular  pleasure  in  attending 
to  his  further  instruction.  Picture, 
then,  his  surprise  and  disgust  when  on 
making  his  ddbut  in  the  ball-room  he 
found  that  his  wife  would  avail  herself 
of  every  pretext  to  leave  him  to  shift  for 
himself — a  conspicuous  object  for  com- 
miseration of  the  experts — while  she 
accepted  the  amorous  attentions  of  every 
clodhopper  who  possessed  the  divine 
accomplishment. 

Were  I,  dear  reader,  to  reproduce  his 


A  MARTYR  TO  THE  CAUSE.    TI5 

exact  words  in  giving  expression  to  his 
indignation  at  and  contempt  for  an  in- 
stitution the  effect  of  which  is  to  ignore 
the  relations  of  husband  and  wife,  and 
exalt  the  accomplishments  of  the  heel 
over  those  of  the  head  and  heart,  you 
would  be  shocked  beyond  measure. 

All  his  happiness  was  centred  in  this 
one  woman  ;  her  good  opinion  was  the 
dearest  thing  on  earth  to  him.  When 
therefore  he  found  himself  unable  to 
partake  with  her  of  the  pleasures  of  the 
dance,  he  tortured  himself  to  acquire  an 
art  which  in  itself  had  no  attraction  for 
him,  merely  because  he  thought  it  would 
render  him  more  pleasing  in  her  sight. 
We  have  seen  the  manner  in  which  she 
encouraged  his  first  attempts ;  but  the 
wrong  was  to  be  deeper  yet.  Content 
that  her  pleasure  should  not  be  spoiled 
by  his  bad  dancing,  he  allowed  her  to 
choose  her  own  partners,  while  he  ap- 
plied himself  vigorously  to  his    self-ap- 


Il6  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

pointed  task  of  learning  to  waltz  'Mike 
an  angel."  Exactly  how  he  achieved 
this  end  is  not  quite  clear.  He  was  not 
seen  to  practice  much  at  the  fashionable 
gatherings  he  attended  with  his  wife;  he 
was  too  sensitive  to  ridicule  for  that. 
Perhaps,  like  Socrates  in  his  old  age,  he 
found  some  underground  Aspasia  who 
was  willing  to  give  him  lessons  in  the 
art.  But  however  this  may  be,  certain 
it  is  that  before  long  he  had  acquired  a 
degree  of  proficiency  which  was  quite 
surprising.  Now,  he  triumphantly 
thought,  his  fond  wife  could  have  all  the 
*'  Boston  Dip"  necessary  for  her  ''health- 
ful exercise  and  recreation''  without 
submitting  her  charms  to  the  embrace 
of  comparative  strangers. 

Alas,  for  his  hopes!  After  walking 
through  the  stately  opening  quadrille  with 
the  "partner  of  his  joys,''  he  discovered 
that  as  though  by  magic  her  card  had 
been  filled  by  the   young   bloods    who 


CARIBERT'S    DANCING-LESSON.        I  I  7 

clustered  about  her ;  and  then  for  the 
first  time  he  was  informed  that  after  in-^ 
troducing  his  wife  to  the  floor  it  was  a 
breach  of  etiquette  to  monopoHze  her 
any  further — he  must  either  sit  content  to 
see  her  whirl,  spitted  on  the  same  bod- 
kin with  men  he  had  never  seen  be- 
fore, or  must  turn  his  own  skill  to  the 
best  account  and 

**  Give — like  her — caresses  to  a  score.** 

It  is  more  than  likely  that  he  adopted 
the  latter  course — most  of  his  class  do. 

Those  wives  who  are  so  eager,  for  va- 
rious reasons  of  their  own,  that  their 
husbands  should  learn  to  dance,  might 
draw  a  wholesome  lesson  from  the  story 
of  Caribert,  king  of  Paris,  whose  wife 
Ingoberge  would  fain  prevent  him  from 
spending  so  much  time  in  the  hunting- 
field. 

To  this  end  she  prepared  a  series  of 
splendid  festivities,   which   she   induced 


11^  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

her  lord  to  attend.  Now,  fairest  and 
most  graceful  among  the  dancers  were 
two  sisters  of  surpassing  beauty,  named 
M6roflede  and  Marcovere.  Having,  at 
his  queen  s  express  solicitation,  essayed 
the  ''light  fantastic"  with  these  ladies, 
the  good  Caribert,  who  had  before  no 
thought  for  any  woman  but  his  wife, 
suddenly  became  so  enamored  with  the 
skill  and  grace  of  the  sisters,  that  he  not 
only  forswore  the  chase  forever,  but  with 
all  possible  despatch  divorced  Ingoberge 
and  married  first  Meroflede  and  then 
Marcovere. 

And  thus  it  is  that  this  demon  creeps 
between  the  husband  and  the  wife,  and 
sooner  or  later  separates  their  hearts  for- 
ever. The  sturdy  oak  may  laugh  at  the 
entering  of  the  wedge,  but  his  mighty 
trunk  will  nevertheless  be  riven  asunder 
by  It  in  the  end. 

But  there  is  one  other  type  of  ball- 
room husband,  whose  portrait  must  not 


A    SELF-MADE    CUCKOLD.  II9 

be  omitted.  This  is  the  miserable,  sim- 
pering, smirking  creature  who  fully  ap- 
preciates the  privilege  of  being  permitted 
to  furnish,  in  the  person  of  his  wife,  a 
a  well  draped  woman  for  other  men's 
amusement;  who  has  an  idea  that  the 
lascivious  embraces  bestowed  upon  his 
wife  are  an  indirect  compliment  to  him- 
self ;  who  is  only  too  happy  to  be  a  cool- 
er to  other  men  s  lust  in  the  ball-room, 
and  is  content  to  enjoy  a  kind  of  matri- 
monial aftermath  in  the  nuptial  cham- 
ber. Can  any  human  being  fall  lower 
than  this  ? 

Old  Fenton  has  told  us  that  flattery 
"supples  the  toughest  fool/'  but  I  regard 
the  man  who  thus  willingly  resigns  his 
wife  to  the  palming  of  these  ball  room 
satyrs,  merely  because  her  beauty  and 
gorgeous  raiment  bring  notice  upon  him 
as  the  owner  of  so  splendid  an  article — 
I  regard  this  beast  as  a  pander  of  the 
vilest  kind;  and  a  most   foolish  pander 


I20  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

withal,  for  he  simply  purchases  the  title 
of  cuckold  at  the  price  of  his  own  dis- 
honor and  his  wifes  open  shame.  He 
loves  to  hear  it  said  that  she  ''dances 
divinely,"  though  he  knows  that  the 
horns  on  his  forehead  are  plainer  to  none 
than  to  the  fellow  who  tells  him  so. 
Bah  !     In  the  words  of  Mallet, 

"  He  who  can  listen  pleased  to  such  applause 
Buys  at  a  dearer  rate  than  I  dare  purchase."  • 

The  budding  horns  affixed  to  the  hus- 
band's pow  in  the  fierce  light  of  the  ball- 
room have  not  the  simple  dignity  of 
even  the  most  towering  antlers  prepared 
by  the  ''  neat-handed  Phyllis "  of  his 
heart  in  the  domestic  seclusion  and  sub- 
dued half-lights  of  a  house  of  assig- 
nation. In  the  one  case  he  poses  as  a 
suppliant  for  honors  to  mark  his  impor- 
tunity ;  in  the  other  his  coronation  is 
the  unsought  reward  of  modest  merit. 
The  Waltz  may  not  make  such  despicable 
creatures  as  I  have  described  above,  but 


DEATH    TAKES    A    PIAND.  121 

It  at  least  affords  them  an  opportunity  to 
parade  their  own  degradation. 

But  the  modern  Terpsichore  has  to 
answer  for,  if  possible,  still  worse  conse- 
quences than  the  seducing  of  our  maids, 
the  debauching  of  our  young  men,  the 
prostitution  of  our  wives,  and  the  debas- 
ing of  human  nature,  both  male  and 
female.  She  is  worse  than  a  procuress, 
there  is  blood  upon  her  skirts,  she  is  a 
murderess. 

From  the  day  when  Herodias  danced 
John  the  Baptist's  head  into  a  trencher 
the  dance  has  been  the  cause  of 
violence  and  bloodshed.  The  hate  and 
jealousy  which  smoulder  within  the 
breast  of  the  rejected  lover,  and  which 
he  is  struggling  to  extinguish,  burst  into 
flame  at  the  sight  of  her  he  loves  folded 
in  ecstacy  upon  the  breast  of  his  rival. 
His  cup  was  already  full — this  is  more 
than  he  can  bear. 

We  may  pass  by  Venetian  masquer- 


122  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

ade  and  Spanish  fandango — where  the 
knife  of  the  avenger  sends  the  victim's, 
blood  spurting  into  the  face  of  his  part- 
ner— and  may  look  nearer  home,  at  our 
fashionable  ''  hops  "  and  *'  sociables,"  4 
where,  though  the  Vendetta  may  not  be 
carried  out  upon  the  floor  (and  instances 
of  this  are  not  lacking)  it  is  nevertheless 
declared,  and  where,  though  no  mute 
form  be  borne  out  from  the  ball-room  to 
the  grave,  the  dance  is  none  the  less  a 
veritable  Dance  of  Death — a  dance  of 
murdered  love  and  slain  friendship,  of 
stabbed  and  bleeding  hearts,  of  crushed 
hopes  and  blighted  prospects,  of  ruined 
virtue  and  of  betrayed  trust. 


CHAPTER    X. 

**  To  save  a  Mayd,  St.  George  the  Dragon  slew  • 
A  pretty  tale  if  all  that's  told  be  true ; 
Most  say  there  are  no  Dragons,  and  *tis  sayd 
There  was  no  George — pray  heaven  there  was  a  Mayd.*' 

Anonymous. 


ND  now  if  I  have  succeeded 
in  showing  the  modern  dance 
as  it  is  and  the  dancers  as 
they  are,  together  with  the 
almost  inevitable  effects  of  the  evil  upon 
those  who  indulge  in  it,  my  main 
object  is  accomplished.  I  did  not 
set  out  to  deal  with  theories,  but 
with  facts.  Indeed,  did  those  whose 
godly  calling  places  them  on  the  watch- 
towers  of  the  church,  use  a  tongue   of 


124  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

fire  to  lay  bare  this  pernicious  practice, 
and  obey  the  divine  mandate  :  "  Thou 
shalt  teach  my  people  the  difference 
between  the  holy  and  profane,  and 
cause  them  to  discern  between  the 
unclean  and  the  clean,"  and  did  those 
whose  office  it  is  to  speak  to  the  mill- 
ions through  the  myriad  tongued  press, 
use  a  pen  of  flame  to  expose  this  grow- 
ing iniquity,  then  would  this  thankless 
task  be  spared  me.     But  when 

**  Pulpits  their  sacred  satire  learn  to  spare, 
And  vice  admired  to  find  a  flatterer  there," 

then  I  say  a  layman  must  speak,  or 
the  stones  would  cry  out  against  him. 

I  have  no  personal  or  pulpit  popularity 
to  preserve,  would  not  preserve  it  if  I 
had  at  the  price  of  divesting  this  public 
sensuality  of  its  terrors,  or  at  the  risk  of 
not  causing  the  types  of  dancers  herein 
painted  to  shrink  from  their  own  portraits. 

It  only  remains  for  me,  then,  to  make 
a  few  concluding  and  general  remarks. 


somp:  exceptions.  125 

It  is  often  urged  that  dancing  cannot 
be  desperately  wicked,  because  it  is  *' tol- 
erated by  all  except  those  of  narrow  and 
bigotted  religious  views/'  A  greater 
mistake  was  never  made,  I  assert  that 
there  are  hosts  of  men  who  never  per- 
mit the  members  of  their  families  to 
take  part  in  round  dances.  Nor  is 
this  the  result  of  religious  bigotry. 
With  most  of  them  "  religion,"  in  the 
popular  sense  of  the  word,  does  not 
enter  into  the  question  at  all — they  are 
not  too  pious,  but  too  chaste  to  dance. 
In  their  eyes  this  familiar  *' laying  on 
of  hands "  is  essentially  indecent,  and 
they  cannot  see  that  the  fact  of  its  being 
done  in  public  makes  it  any  less  inde- 
cent. They  will  not  allow  even  omni- 
potent Fashion  to  blind  them  in  this 
matter,  especially  when  they  see  that 
the  vice  is  most  common  among  those 
who  lead  the  fashion. 

Far  be  it  from  me,  however,  to  imply 


125  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

that  even  the  most  ardent  votaries  of 
the  dance  are  blind  to  its  impurity.  No 
indeed.  I«^  there  one  so-called  respect- 
able woman  among  them  who  would 
submit  to  be  painted  or  photographed  in 
the  attitude  she  assumes  while  dancing 
the  latest  variety  of  waltz — even  though 
her  partner  in  the  picture,  instead  of  be- 
ing a  stranger  just  met  for  the  first  time, 
were  her  most  intimate  friend — aye,  even 
though  he  were  her  husband  ?  Not  one 
of  them  would  submit  to  be  thus  de- 
picted ;  but  if  some  maiden  could  be  per- 
suaded, what  a  pleasing  family  pictiire  it 
would  be  for  her  husband  and  children 
to  gaze  upon  in  later  years !  Had  I 
such  an  one  to  illustrate  this  book  with, 
the  success  of  its  mission  would  be  as- 
sured, with  the  simple  drawback  of  the 
author  being  held  amenable  to  an  offended 
law  for  issuing  obscene  pictures. 

Such  a  representation   would    imme- 
diately effect  the  fulfillment  of  a  proph- 


A    PROJECTED    IMPROVEMENT.        1 27 

ecy  made  by  the  writer  of  3.  recent  work 
entitled  '*  Saratoga  in  Nineteen  Hun- 
dred." In  those  times  there  is  to  be  no 
more  dancing.  The  gentlemen,  it  is 
true,  are  to  engage  the  ladies  for  a  por- 
tion of  the  evening  as  in  these  benighted 
days;  but  instead  of  taking  her  on  the 
floor,  he  will  retire  with  her  to  one  of  a 
number  of  little  private  rooms  with  which 
every  respectable  mansion  is  to  be  pro- 
vided, and  there  they  will  do  their  hug- 
ging in  private.  A  great  improvement, 
certainly,  upon  the  present  plan,  in  such 
matters  as  decency  and  comfort,  but 
scarcely  in  completeness. 

It  will  only  remain  for  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  that  future  generation  to 
make  dancing  their  religion.  Let  them 
convert  their  churches  into  dancing-halls, 
and  set  up  an  appropriate  image  of  their 
deity — the  Waltz — upon  the  altars  ;  not 
the  decently  draped  Terpsichore  of  the 
dark,  pagan  past,  but  the  reeling  Bac- 


12^  THE    DANCE    OF    DEATH. 

chante — flushed,  panting,  dishevelled, 
half-naked,  half-drunk,  half-mad — of  the 
enlightened,  christian  present ;  let  the 
grave  priest  give  way  to  the  gay  master- 
of-ceremonies,  and  the  solemn  benedic- 
tion to  the  parting  toast ;  let  the  orches- 
tra occupy  the  pulpit,  and  the  "wall- 
flowers "  sit  in  the  vestry ;  let  the  pews 
be  swept  away,  and  the  floors  duly 
waxed  and  polished,  but  let  not  the  tab- 
lets of  the  dead  be  removed — they  are 
the  "  handwriting  upon  the  wall,"  the 
mene,  mene,  iekel,  upharsin,  most  fitting 
for  those  to  read  who  delight  in  the 
Dance  of  Death.  Then,  when  the 
prayerbooks  are  programmes,  and  the 
hymnbooks  the  music  of  Strauss,  the 
jingle  of  the  piano  may  mock  the  dumb 
thunder  of  the  organ,  and  the  whirling 
congregation  may  immortalize  a  bard  of 
to-day  by  singing  the  following  verses 
of  his  composition  to  the  "praise  and 
glory  of" — the  Waltz  : 


A    HYMN    OF    THE    FUTURE.  .  1 2g 

•*  In  lofty  cathedrals  the  organ  may  thunder 
Its  echoes  repeated  from  fresco-crowned  vaults, 

And  the  multitude  kneeling  in  rapture  may  wonder, 
But  give  me  the  music  that  sounds  for  the  waltz  I 

The  Angels  of  Heaven,  in  glory  advancing, 
Are  singing  hosannahs  of  praise  to  the  King; 

Unless  they  have  women,  and  music,  and  dancing, 
Forever  unheeded  by  me  they  may  sing. 

Oh  !  take  not  the  sunshine  that  knows  no  to-morro^% 
The  rivers  of  honey  and  fountains  of  bliss, 

Where    the    souls    of  the    righteous    may    rest  from  theif 
sorrow — 
They  have  not  a  joy  that  is  equal  to  this. 

When  the  dead  from  their  graves  stand  in  awe  and  des- 
ponding. 

And  the  trumpet  calls  loud  on  that  terrible  day, 
To  our  names  on  the  roll  there  will  be  no  responding — 

To  the  music  of  Love  we'll  have  floated  away." 

But  having  brought  this  delectable 
"  recreation ''  to  the  utmost  pitch  of  re- 
finement of  which  it  is  susceptible — a 
condition  it  bids  fair  promise  to  attain 
in  a  few  more  seasons,  I  feel  that  it  is 
time,  as  Byron  has  it,  to  "  put  out  the 
light."  I  therefore  conclude  with  a  very 
brief  exhortation  to  my  readers. 

To  dancers  one  and  all  I  would  say : 


130  THE    DANCE   OF    DEATH. 

Try  and  see  yourselves  as  others  see  you; 
remember  that  there  are  many  harmless 
pleasures  that  have  about  them  no  taint 
of  filthy  lust;  above  all  cease  to  believe 
Dr  to  assert  that  the  modern  waltz  is  an 
"innocent  amusement/' 

To  the  women,  in  particular,  I  say : 
Set  your  faces  against  this  abomination, 
which  is  robbing  you  of  man's  respect, 
and  is  the  primal  cause  of  infinite  misery 
to  yourselves. 

To  the  men  I  would  say:  Those  who 
are  the  natural  arbiters  of  what  is  per- 
missible between  man  and  woman,  have 
shown  their  weakness  and  betrayed  their 
trust;  it  is  now  for  you  to  show  your 
strength  and  redeem  your  honor. 

You  who  are  unfavorable  to  the  mod- 
ern dance,  I  adjure  not  to  let  your  oppo- 
sition be  merely  negative,  but  to  work 
positively  for  the  putting  down  of  the 
evil  precisely  as  you  might  for  the  sup- 
pression of  prostitution  or  any  other  cor- 


CONCLUSION. 


131 


rupting  influence.  For  as  surely  as  thy 
soul  liveth,  this  is  '*  a  way  that  seemeth 
good  unto  a  man,  but  the  end  thereof  is 
death." 


THE  DANCE  OF  DEATH, 


The  Author  to  the  Public. 

In  my  preface  to  "  The  Dance  of  Death  "  I  endeavored  to  show  to  the  reader 
the  absolute  necessity  for  handling  my  subject  with  a  plainness  of  speech 
which,  under  any  ordinary  circumstances,  would  be  inadmissible.  I  felt 
that  such  an  explanation  was  due  to  the  public,  and  to  myself,  and  I,  there- 
fore, pointed  out  that  to  merely  re-echo  the  mild  remonstrances  of  the  pul- 
pit, or  the  conciliatory  deprecation  of  the  press,  would  be  worse  than  useless. 
I  also  stated,  that  being  convinced  that  I  must  either  speak  in  the  most  un- 
mistakeable  language  or  be  silent,  I  had  consulted  with  those  better  qualified 
to  judge  than  myself,  as  to  the  advisability  of  speaking  at  all,  and  that  my 
work  was  actually  published  upon  their  advice  and  encouragement.  But,  al- 
though I  thus  assured  myself  that  my  course  would  meet  with  the  support 
and  approval  of  those  whose  opinion  I  most  valued,  I  was  by  no  means  un- 
aware of  the  opposition  I  should  encounter  from  other  quarters.  To  attack 
even  those  vices  which  are  universally  acknowledged  to  be  such,  is  at  best  a 
thankless  task;  what,  then,  could  I  expect  when  I  assailed  an  evil  which  is 
countenanced  and  cherished  by  Wealth,  Fashion,  and  Society?  Who  could 
enter  the  lists  against  three  such  champions  and  hope  to  go  unscathed  ? 

During  the  very  brief  time  that  my  book  has  been  before  the  public,  in 
which  however,  the  author's  edition  has  been  exhausted,  its  reception  has 
been  exactly  what  I  anticipated.  From  the  best  and  purest  sources  I  have 
received  written  expressions  of  congratulation,  encouragement,  and  approval- 
Some  of  these  I  hasten  to  print,  and  shall  continue  to  do  so,  where  per. 
mission  is  given,  as  I  receive  them. 

I  am  also  aware  that  a  very  bitter  feeling  exists  against  the  book  among  a' 
class  to  which  I  have  already  referred.  I  have,  indeed,  received  a  few  letters 
to  this  effect,  but  the  majority  of  those  who  condemn  my  utterances  do  not 
care  to  commit  their  own  sentiments  to  writing.  I  intend,  at  some  future 
time,  when  I  shall  have  a  larger  collection  of  them,  to  print  these  unflattering 
documents  side  by  side  with  those  that  are  more  pleasing  to  me.  At  present, 
however,  I  must  content  myself  with  answering  the  principal  objection  of 
which  these,  my  censors,  seek  to  avail  themselves,  for  lack  of  a  better,  viz  : 
That  the  book  is  hkely  to  do  more  harm  than  good  to  young  people,  should 
it  fall  into  their  hands,  as  it  will  teach  many  of  them  what  they  were  before 
ignorant  of. 


THE   AUTHOR 

This  apprehension,  I  contend,  is,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  not  honestly- 
entertained,  but  merely  serves  as  the  most  convenient  and  plausible  pretext 
for  denouncing  any  attempt  at  reform  in  this  matter.  But  let  those  who  do 
really  believe  that  the  book  would  be  dangerous  to  young  people  be  reassured. 
If,  at  the  present  day,  the  youth  of  either  sex  are  ignorant  of  anything  that 
"The  Dance  of  Death  "  can  teach,  it  is  not  from  want  of  opportunity  to  be 
wiser.  I  am  incUned  to  think  that  those  of  them  who  are  pure,  are  so  by 
natural  aversion  for  impurity,  and  not  by  ignorance  of  its  existence.  If  they, 
having  the  sanction,  encouragement,  and  example  of  parents  and  friends  to 
indulge  in  the  excesses  which  I  denounce,  still  remain  free  from  them,  is  it 
not  absurd  to  argue  that  my  denunciation  will  have  the  very  opposite  effect? 
But  let  it  be  granted  that  they  as  yet  know  no  evil,  and  it  is  surely  better  that 
they  should  be  warned  in  time  of  the  rocks  that  beset  their  course  than  th  at 
they  should  be  left  to  drift  suddenly  or  insensibly  upon  them,  and  so  acquire 
a  right  to  cry  out  bitterly  against  those  who  should  have  furnished  them  with 
chart  and  beacon. 

With  regard  to  that  class  of  young  people  (and  I  must  reluctantly  confess 
that  there  are  such)  who  would  find  an  additional  incentive  to  evil-doing  in 
my  pages,  I  can  only  say,  that  even  were  the  opportunities  which  I  condemn 
scrupulously  withheld  from  them,  instead  of  being  so  liberally  accorded,  they 
would  still  be  in  full  possession  of  such  knowledge  as  would  prevent  "  The 
Dance  of  Death  "  being  in  any  sort  a  revelation  to  them.  It  is  their  privilege 
to  find  uastiness  in  stones  and  bad  in  everything;  and  the  Bible  itself  must 
be  kept  out  of  their  reach,  if  we  hope  to  prevent  the  perversion  of  good. 

And,  in  this  connection,  let  me  ask  those  who  are  so  fearful  lest  "The 
Dance  of  Death  "  suould  fall  into  the  hands  of  this  class,  whether  they  are  in 
like  manner  anxious  about  certain  other  works,  which  I  am  sure  many  of 
them  possess,  and  do  not  keep  under  lock  and  key,  either.  I  had  better, 
perhaps,  not  include  among  these  the  unnatural  beastliness  of  Petronius, 
Apuleius,  and  writers  of  that  ilk,  lest  I  be  accused  of  not  appreciating  the 
"classics;"  though,  for  the  matter  of  that,  the  great  majority  of  those  who 
keep  Bohn's  "unabridged"  (always  "unabridged,"  mind  you)  editions  of 
those  chaste  writers  exposed  upon  their  shelves,  know  and  care  as  much  about 
the  "classics,"  when  it  comes  to  reading  Aristotle  and  Sophocles,  as  does  the 
ink  I  write  with.  For  similar  reasons  I  must  exclude  the  inexpressible  filth 
of  Rabelais;  he  is  a  French  "classic,"  and  was  very  witty,  you  know;  and 
although  the  sense  and  basis  of  his  wit  is  almost  undiscoverable  now-a-daya 

to  the  most  learned  and  indefatigable  critics,  still  he  m  a  "  classic,"  and 

Friar  John  is  so  amusing. 

But  perhaps  I  may  venture  to  take  as  a  type  of  the  class  of  books  which, 
to  my  thinking,  make  even  worse  "family  reading"  than  "The  Dance  of 
Death,"  a  work  which  seems  to  be  held  in  high  favor  in  this  country,  not  only 
in  the  library,  but  also  in  the  nursery.    It  was  written  by  a  very  distinguished 


TO  THE   PUBLIC. 

author,  and  in  the  shape  in  which  I  have  generally  seen  it  here,  it  certainlf 
makes  a  very  handsome  book,  being  published  by  an  eminent  London  firm, 
and  illustrated  by  one  of  the  most  celebrated  of  modern  artists.  I  have  fre- 
quently seen  it  on  book-shelves  and  drawing-room  tables ;  but  the  last  time 
I  met  with  it  was  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  under  circumstances  which  deserve 
narration. 

Nothing  pleased  the  progeny  of  this  friend  more  than  to  get  a  book  of  pic- 
tures and  have  me  "  tell  all  about  them,"  and  nothing  pleased  me  more  than 
to  do  so.  -  On  this  occasion  there  was  no  book  to  be  found  until  a  little  one 
remembered  that  she  had  a  "  splendid  picture-book  upstairs."  The  volume 
was  quickly  brought.  The  little  heads  clustered  eagerly  about  me.  I  opened 
the  treasure;  and,  behold  1  a  translation  of  the  "Contes  Droeatiques  "  by 
Balzac,  "complete  and  unabridged,  profusely  illustrated* by  Gustave  Dore." 
Pretty  pictures,  truly,  to  "  tell  all  about  " 

Now,  of  course,  this  may  all  have  been  an  accident.  Children  will  lay 
hands  on  things  not  intended  for  their  use,  and  I  do  not  presume  to  say  that 
in  all,  or  indeed  any,  of  the  households  where  such  books  are  kept,  that  they 
are  made  free  to  the  junior  members  of  the  family  ;  nay,  I  know  that  they  are 
usually  put  where  one  has  at  least  to  climb  on  a  chair  to  reach  them ;  nor 
would  I  in  any  way  find  fault  with  the  keeping  of  them— I  have  some  myself. 
But  I  mention  the  incident  because  the  father  and  mother  of  these  innocents 
had  declared  that  while  they  agreed  with  every  word  that  I  had  written,  no 
copy  of  the  Dance  of  Death  should  enter  their  doors  "lest  the  children  should 
get  hold  of  it."  Why  then  were  these  " Droll  Stories "  permitted  to  enter? 
for  I  hold  that  my  book,  which  is  at  least  written  for  a  moral  purpose,  what- 
ever its  effect  may  be,  may  safely  be  read  by  all  who  can  with  impunity  enjoy 
a  collection  of  coarse  jests,  written  in  the  nineteenth  century  for  no  better  eHd 
than  to  imitate  the  ribaldry  of  the  sixteenth.  And  on  the  other  hand,  if  the 
latter  can  be  kept  from  the  eyes  of  those  whom  it  would  harm  to  read  it,  then 
so  can  the  former. 

I  will  now  proceed  to  give  some  extracts  from  newspaper  reviews  and  from 
letters  I  have  received  concerning  the  "Dance  of  Death,"  purposely  omit- 
ting however,  as  far  as  possible,  those  portions  which  compliment  the  book 
merely  as  a  literary  production,  these  testimonials  not  being  presented  here 
as  an  advertisement,  but  to  show  that  I  do  not  stand  so  entirely  alone  in  mj 
opinions  as  my  opponents  would  have  it  believed. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  certain  of  my  critics  are  in  doubt  whether  "  William 
Herman  "  is  my  real  name,  while  others  are  certain  that  it  is  not.  I  may  as 
well  own  that  it  is  at  least  not  my  entire  name.  But,  that  I  should  have  used 
a  nom  de  plume  is,  I  hear,  deemed  by  my  opponents  a  sure  sign  that  I  am 
ashamed  of  what  I  have  written,  or  at  least  they  choose  to  "make  a  point'* 
by  putting  it  in  that  light.  They  are,  however,  in  error.  I  have  done  ao 
partly  as  a  matter  of  good  taste— to  parade  my  personality  when  arraigningf 


OPINIONS    OF 

my  fellow-men,  would  not  be  modest,  but  this  I  do  not  expect  them  to 
xmderstand.  I  may,  perhaps,  answer  them  more  intelligibly  by  giving 
another  motive,  namely  :  that  I  wish  them  to  deal  with  the  question  at  issue 
and  not  with  the  individual  who  has  raised  th^t  question.  I  give  them  my 
^eas  and  opinions  to  combat ;  if  they  can  overthrow  these,  then  they  will  do 
A  good  thing  for  the  world  ;  but  if  they  were  to  avoid  the  shock  of  these  and 
turn  their  weapons  upon  me,  then  they  would  do  just  nothing  at  all.  But  my 
nom  de  plume  is  to  me,  after  all,  only  the  armor  of  courtesy,  because  my  real 
name  and  identity  are  Jcnovtm  to  all  who  have  heard  of  my  book  in  California, 
and  if  /  have  not  attacked  personally  those  whose  opinions  and  practice 
differed  from  my  own,  that  is  no  reason  why  they  should  not  do  so. 

Therefore,  here,  where  I  am  known,  a  nom  de  plume  serves  as  no  shield 
whatever,  while  elsewhere,  where  I  am  not  known,  I  need  no  shield  ;  so  it  is 
evident  that  no  motives  of  personal  fear  have  induced  me  to  write  as 
"William  Herman." 

[Where  the  names  of  those  whose  words  I  quote  below  are  not  given,  it  is  be- 
cause I  have  not  received  "direct  permission"  from  the  writers  to  use  them. 
It  should  be  rerabered  that  "  The  Oance  of  Death  "  has  been  in  circulation  only 
ft  few  days,  which  will  account  for  most  of  the  sentiments  given  below  being  de- 
rived from  local  sources. 

Fitzgerald's  Home  Newspaper  and  Educational  Journal,  published 

weekly  in  San  Francisco,  and  an  authority  of  the  highest  importance,  says : 

"  This  is  a  remarkable  book.  Its  publication  will  make  a  stir.  There  is  not  & 
dull  sentence  in  it.  It  is  a-blaze  witn  intense  feeling,  and  abounds  in  passages  of 
wonderful  power.  The  book  is  an  indictment  against  the  modern  waltz  and 
other  dances  of  the  round  dance  order.  Parts  of  it  are  as  keen  in  satire  as 
Juvenal ;  other  parts  are  suffused  with  a  pathos  that  is  startling  in  its  intensity. 
Every  parent  ought  to  read  it.  Its  pictures  may  be  too  vivid  for  immaturity. 
It  is  the  boldest  word  yet  spoken  on  the  subject  of  which  it  treats,  and  if  we 
mistake  not,  its  publication  will  affect  the  public  mind  somewhat  like  the  shock 
of  a  powerful  galvanic  battery." 

The  Evangel  (San  Francisco),  of  June  14,  contains  the  following  review: 
"The  preaching  of  to-day  is  not  all  done  in  pulpits.  There  is  much  that  is 
more  appropriately  and  effectively  done  elsewhere.  And  a  layman  of  San  Fran- 
cisco has  preached  a  sermon  which  he  calls  *  The  Dance  of  Death,'  destined  to 
be  the  Death  of  a  great  deal  of  Dancing.  The  book  is  a  most  uncompromising 
attack  upon  the  'modern  waltz.'  The  writer  is  well  acquainted  with  his  sub- 
ject— has  drunk  deeply  from  the  cup  he  analyzes — and  writes  in  a  bold,  fearless, 
and  at  the  same  time  classical  and  elegant  style.  A  conscious  sense  of  duty  and 
a  conscientious  desire  to  perform  it  seem  to  have  furnished  inspiration  for  a  task 
from  which  the  boldest  might  well  shrink.  The  author  of  the  book — a  gentle- 
man of  high  standing  in  San  Francisco,  whose  name,  were  it  substituted  for  its 
pseudonym  on  the  title  page,  would  furnish  all  requisite  evidence  of  the  integ- 
rity of  his  purpose— has  most  cordial  letters  of  endorsement  and  encouragement 
from  leading  literary  men  and  women,  clergymen  and  others,  East  and  West. 
He  has  not  entered  hastily  or  unadvisedly  upon  a  task  which  will  bring  a  storm 
of  condemnation  from  those  most  interested  in  perpetuating  the  evils  he 
denounces.  But  waiving  his  own  opinion  upon  the  merits  of  his  book,  he  has 
submitted  it  for  months  to  criticism  pro  and  con.  from  all  classes,  literary, 
religious,  fashionable  and 'fast.' until  convinced  that  he  would  have  the  sym- 
pathy of  all  good  people  in  his  work. 

"  *  The  Danoe  of  Death '  will  be  widely  read.  The  author  is  met  by  the  objec- 
tion that  it  is  not  an  appropriate  book  for  the  young.  But  he  very  logically  and 
justly  answers  that  if  opportunities  are  presented  every  night  to  the  young  to 


THE   PRESS. 

obtain  practical  knowledge  of  evil,  nnder  parental  sanction,  it  cannot  be  very 
pernicious  to  warn  them  beforehand  in  type.  No  book  was  ever  put  in  print  so 
likely  to  create  a  revolution  in  the  dancing  customs  of  society.  It  is  not  blatant, 
frothy  or  bigoted:  it  is  cool,  clear,  logical,  dealing  only  with  facts  within  the 
author's  range  of  knowledge,  and  subject  to  his  proof.  It  seems  hardly  possible 
tJiat  any  father  can  tolerate  the  thought  of  'ball-rooms'  after  reading  'The 
Dance  of  Death,'  or  that  any  woman  can  compromise  herself  by  entering  one."^ 

Says  the  California  Christian  Advocate  (June  14),  another  very  able  and 
oonscientiouspaper : 

**  This  little  volume  is  from  the  pen  of  a  '  mac  of  the  world,'  yet  written  in  the 
cause  of  truth  and  morality.  The  author's  description  of  fashionable  dances, 
and  their  fearfully  demoralizing  influences  on  those  who  engage  in  them,  excels 
anything  we  have  hitherto  seen  on  the  subject — aye,  than  our  imagination  had 
ever  conceived.  He  writes  evidently  under  a  deep  conviction  of  the  truth,  and 
gives  the  voice  of  warning  in  terms  that  well-nigh  take  away  the  breath  of  the 
reader.  ******* 

"There  are,  we  doubt  not,  thousands  who  are  practicing  the  'Dance  of 
Death,'  waltzing  down  to  perdition.  We  accept  as  truth  the  writer's  declara- 
tion: *  The  dancing  hall  is  the  nursery  of  the  divorce  court,  the  training  ship  of 
prostitution,  the  graduating  school  of  infamy!' " 

The  San  Francisco  Mail,  of  June  11th,  previous  to  furnishing  its  readers 

with  some  very  lengthy  extracts,  says : 

"  This  is  a  peculiar  book,  written  for  a  worthy  object,  the  deprecation  of  the 
modern  waltz,  and  written  with  force  and  vigor. 

The  San  Francisco  News  Letter,  of  June  9,  says : 

****** 

"  Mr.  Herman's  book  is  a  terrible  attack  on  that  monster,  the  Modern  Waltz, 
which  has  so  long  been  permitted  to  disgrace  our  civilization  and  outrage  com- 
mon decency  unhindered  save  by  an  occasional  mild  protest  from  pressor  pulpit. 
Now.  however,  this  ninteenth-century  Priapus  is  bearded  roughly  enough;  hi& 
cult  is  fully  explained,  and  his  admirers  need  no  longer  worship  the  god  of  the 
garden  in  pretended  ignorance  of  his  being  also  god  of  the  'lustrum.'    *    *    * 

"This  evil,  the  waltz  so  insidious  in  its  approach  and  influence,  has  existed 
long  enough  amongst  us ;  it  daily  gains  power  through  the  sanction  of  Fashion, 
and  Heaven  only  knows— though  our  author  hints  at  it— what  stage  of  legalized 
lubricity  it  may  reach  unless  promptly  attacked  and  slain.  It  has  been  preached 
at  from  the  pulpit,  but  so  mildly  and  man-fearingly  that  the  sermon  had  better 
been  left  unwritten.  It  has  been  deprecated  by  the  press,  but  so  carelessly  and 
time-servingly  that  nobody  heeded.  But  Mr.  Herman  deals  with  the  subject  in 
a  very  different  manner:  he  does  not  prate  moral  platitudes  at  us,  but  strikes 
boldly  at  the  head  and  front  of  our  offending.  He  shows  us  what  is  done,  with 
the  results  of  that  doing,  and  leaves  it  to  our  consciences  whether  we  ought  to 
stop  and  consider  or  not.  To  his  plainness  of  utterance  we  have  already  alluded: 
this  will  doubtless  be  used  as  a  coign  of  vantage  by  those  whose  pet  vice  he 
assails.  But  what  would  you  have?  He  must  speak  or  be  silent;  he  tells  us  that 
he  can  no  longer  remain  silent,  and  adds:  '  I  might  as  well  talk  to  the  winds  as 
veil  my  ideas  in  sweet  phrases  when  addressing  people  who  it  seems  cannot 
descry  the  presence  of  corruption  until  it  is  held  in  all  its  putridity  under  their 
very  nostrils.'  There  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  William  Herman  is  not  the 
real,  or,  at  least,  the  full  name  of  the  author  of  this  book;  a  gentleman  eminent 
in  social  and  business  circles  here  is  said  to  be  its  parent.  Very  natural  motives 
of  delicacy  may  have  led  him  to  conceal  his  identity;  but  we  can  only  regret  that 
one  who  was  fearless  and  honorable  enough  to  deviate  from  his  easy  patn  of  life 
and  enter  the  lists  against  this  abominable  lust-idol— the  waltz  and  its  vast  army 
of  devotees— should  have  shrunk  from  the  great  ordeal — personal  vituperation 
from  the  enemy.  For  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  book  will  be  violently 
assailed  by  those  against  whom  its  lightnings  are  hurled;  the  portraits  he  draws 
are  too  exact;  not,  perhaps,  of  individuals,  but  of  classes:  and  the  draught  is 
too  bitter  altogether  to  be  meekly  swallowed  by  those  for  whose  benefit  it  is  pre- 
scribed. Many  ladies,  whose  position  and  breeding  should  render  them  impassa- 
ble and  immovable,  will  doubtless  lose  their  temper  and  confess  their  sin  by 


LETTERS 

their  indignation.  Many  gentlemen,  of  oily  manners  and  principles,  will,  of 
course,  be  furious  at  finding  a  looking-glass  in  the  pages  of  '  The  Dance  of 
Death.'  But  we  nevertheless  do  plainly  advise  Mr.  Herman,  if  that  be  not  hii 
true  name,  to  publish  another  edition  (for  the  present  will  soon  be  sold  out)  witk 
his  veritable  praenomen,  nomen,  and  cognomen  upon  the  title  page,  and  to  fear- 
lessly rely  upon  the  support  and  countenance  of  all  pure  and  honest  men  and 
women  for  his  vindication."  *  *  *  * 

The  San  Francisco  Golden  Era,  of  June  3,  speaks  thus : 

•*  •  The  Dance  of  Death,'  by  a  San  Franciscan,  is  a  powerful  attack  on  dancing: 
as  a  licentious  amusement.  Certainly  no  gentleman  having  a  high  respect  for 
his  chastity  will  indulge  in  such  an  idiotic  and  demoralizing  fandango." 

The  San  Francisco  Chronicle  says : 

**  The  argument  is  in  many  respects  consistent  and  admirable,  and  the  writinaf 
shows  a  practiced  hand,  large  reading  and  accomplished  scholarship.  The  author 
is  said  to  be  a  gentleman  of  San  b  rancisco  and  an  artist  of  repute. 

Here  is  part  of  what  the  San  Francisco  Daily  Evening  Post,  of  June  16, 
has  to  say: 

**  It  will  require  something  more  than  scoffing  to  negative  the  force  of  this 
earnest  attack.  The  redhot  shot  have  too  much  of  truth  to  be  lightly  turned 
aside.  The  votaries  of  the  mazy  whirl  must  needs  call  up  their  entire  reserves, 
if  they  would  meet  the  onset  of  this  uncompromising  reformer.  The  spirit  in 
which  the  book  is  written,  its  strong  illustrations  of  the  evil  it  deplores,  and 
the  pointed,  earnest,  courageous  sentiments  of  morality  it  espouses,  will  com- 
mand for  it  the  sincere  respect  of  all  lovers  of  purity  and  home.  Parents  will 
find  it  a  reminder  to  renewed  watchfulness  over  daughters  whose  sacred  mod- 
esty is  '  their  wall  of  defense  and  the  bower  of  our  delight.'  Honorable  young 
men,  even  if  denying  the  full  extent  of  the  mischief  herein  portrayed,  must 
still  see  the  opportunities  for  evil  involved  in  this  certainly  questionable  pas- 
time, and  will  hesitate  to  encourage  what  they  cannot  without  reluctance  com- 
mend to  their  own  sisters.  The  tendency  of  late  years  has  been  against  indul- 
gence in  'round  dances.'  but  the  opposition  has  been  so  indeterminate,  individual, 
unorganized  and  desultory,  that  when  importuned  to  its  indulgence  many  good 
people  have  '  still  refusing,  yielded.'  This  book  is  such  a  crystallization  of  all 
the  evil  influences  of  the  voluptuous  dance  that  it  dispels  all  doubt  in  tho 
premises,  and  will  determine  many  a  vacillating  soul  to  nerve  its  resolve  against 
over  again  indulging  in  the  Dance  of  Death." 

The  Daily  Alta  California  of  June  17,  contains  the  foUo wing  notice : 

"  A  fierce  denunciation  of  the  waltz,  as  a  dance  in  which  the  rules  of  modesty 
are  frequently  violated,  in  which  youn^  ladies  learn  to  tolerate  liberties  that 
would  never  be  permitted  under  otner  circumstances,  and  in  which  the  first  ap- 
proaches are  often  made  toward  dangerous  license.  The  author  discusses  the 
subject  with  bold  thought  and  vigorous  language,  looking  at  it  from  many  sides, 
and  bringing  up  illustrations  and  evidences  from  a  wide  range  of  reading. 
Much  has  been  written  by  others  for  the  same  purpose,  but  usually  in  brief 
paragraphs  or  in  dull  style,  and  this,  as  the  most  comprehensive  and  forcible 
essay  against  round  dancing,  will  be  received  with  satisfaction  by  many  persons 
who  entertain  the  same  idea,  but  have  never  found  a  satisfactory  argument  on 
their  side.  The  author  confines  his  remarks  to  the  waltz,  but  the  principle  ap- 
plies with  nearly  equal  force  to  the  schottische,  polka,  galop  and  various  other 
round  dances." 

The  lady  principal  of  one  of  the  chief  female  educational  establishments  on 
the  Pacific  Slope,  writes  to  request  that  a  copy  of  "  The  Dance  of  Death  "  be  seni 
to  the  principle  male  educational  establishment  as  she  particularly  desires  is 
to  be  read  there. 

The  same  lady  has  introduced  many  of  her  personal  friends  to  the  author,  to 
enable  them  to  procure  advance  copies,  but  in  no  way  has  she  shown  her  approval 
of  the  work  more  plainly  than  by  reading  it.  "chapter  and  verse,"  to  her  senior 

■class,  a  member  of  which  writes;  "  Mrs has  begun  to  read  your  book  to  our 

class;  she  spoke  to  me  about  it,  and  said  she  agreed  with  you  perfectly."  Nor 
was  this  done  unadvisedly,  as  the  following  letter  will  show. 


AND    EXTRACTS. 

'•  Dio  Lewis  "  writes  to  the  lady  above  alluded  to,  by  whom  he  had  been 
furnished  with  an  "author's  copy:" 

"  I  thank  yoti  for  the  volume—'  Dance  of  Death.'  Please 
say  to  the  author  that,  in  my  humble  opinion,  he  has  done  his  work  most  power- 
fully and  effectively.  It  is  the  vulnerable  point  in  the  enemy's  works.  No  one — 
no  decent  woman  of  any  age,  can  read  the  volume  without  finding  it  difficult,  or 
impossible,  to  waltz  again.  I  feel  myself  greatly  indebted  to  Mr.  Herman.  Is 
that  his  real  name?  Please  tell  me  how  I  may  address  him.  Can't  you,  dear 
madam,  read  that  volume  to  your  young  ladies?    It  will  do  great  good." 

The  Pastor  of  a  Presbyterian  Church,  writes  : 

"I  am  glad  you  have  written  it.  »  *  *  With  the  object  of  the  book, 
the  abatement  of  a  dangerous  amusement — dangerous  as  now  conducted  to  the 
moral  purity  of  its  devotees— I  am  in  full  accord.  *  *  *  Any  treatment 
that  will  aid  in  abating  the  evil  must  be  not  only  justified,  but  commended.  I 
sincerely  hope  your  book  will  go  into  the  hands  of  the  fathers  and  mothers  of 
our  whole  land." 

A  lady  well  known  in  social  and  literary  circles  in  San  Francisco,  writes: 

"I  have  read  your  emphatic  protest—'  The  Dance  of  Death,'  with  the  deepest 
interest  and  the  most  critical  observation.  It  seems  to  me  to  occupy  the  same 
relative  position  in  respect  to  a  great  social  malady  that  many  valuable  medical 
works  do  in  respect  to  great  physical  maladies,  and  that  its  vocation  and  mission 
are  not  less  important.  You  have  laid  the  axe  at  the  very  root  of  the  evil— not 
content  to  lop  off  some  of  its  branches.  Desperate  diseases  demand  desperate 
remedies.  *  *  *  I  think  your  work  should  have  room  and  range  wherever  the 
enervating  and  destructive  tendencies  of  the  modern  waltz  are  felt.  *  *  It  is 
time  that  some  clarion-note  of  alarm  sounded  out  bold  and  intrepid  against  this 
corrodingcurse— the  modern  waltz.  *  *  *  *  jf.  will  not  do  to  dismiss  so 
2:rave  a  matter  with  a  few  ad  captavdnm  phrases,  calculated  to  tickle  the  pub- 
lic taste.  There  is  surgical  work  to  be  done  before  the  cancerous  tendencies  are 
eliminated.    Hence,  I  believe  your  work  will  do  good." 

A  Key.  Father  of  St.  Ignatius  College,  San  Francisco,  writes  to  a  friend  : 

"  The  author  describes  one  of  the  greatest  evils  of  present  as  well  as  past  times. 
His  colors,  no  matter  how  heavily  laid  on.  are  far  from  exaggeration.  The  evil 
is  there— ?cc  know  it,  who  are  left  to  heal  the  sores  of  the  soul;  they  know  it, 
who,  with  the  indulgence  of  easy  parents  and  the  sanction  of  law  and  fashion, 
avail  themselves  of  the  opportunity  to  satisfy  their  morbid  passions.  *  *  *  i 
would  that  every  father  and  mother  should  read  it,  and  even  young  ladies.  *  * 
*  With  us.  Catholics,  the  matter  is  settled ;  we  know  all  about  it.  It  is  difficult 
to  speak  such  things  from  the  pulpit;  but  we  are  glad  that  truth  is  made  acces- 
sible through  books  of  this  kind." 

A.  S.  Barnes,  of  the  well-known  New  York  school-book  publishing  firm 

writes : 

"  You  have  evidently  taken  the  bull  by  the  horns,  and  produced  a  book  which 
should  be  read  by  every  parent  and  guardian.  The  writer  is  a  little  at  a  loss  to 
decide  whether  it  is  a  book  for  young  girls  and  boys  to  read,  and  yet  he  is  not 
certain  but  that  it  should  have  a  free  circulation.  If  you  are  inclined  to  send  U8 
the  plates,  we  will  either  publish  it  or  find  a  publisher  for  you." 

Gen.  Albert  Pikk,  of  Washington,  I).  C,  writes: 

"I  have  received  and  read  "The  Dance  of  Death."  I  think  it  is  true,  every 
word  of  it.  The  waltz  is  only  fit  for  houses  of  prostitution,  and  I  never  have 
been  able  to  understand  how  any  father  could  permit  his  daughter,  or  any  hus- 
band his  wife,  to  waltz  with  other  men.  But,  chacun-  i  fion  gout.  The  chief 
object  of  dress  and  action  of  young  women  now  seems  to  be  to  excite  men's  pas- 
sionate desire.  A  general  reform  is  needed,  and  the  preachers  will  have  to  talk 
as  plainly  to  women,  by  and  by,  as  they  did  some  centuries  ago  in  France." 


fi' 


LETTERS 

Mr.  Stephen  Masbett  ("Jeems  Pipes,  of  Pipesville,")  writee: 

"Among those  who  have  spoken  in  praise  of  your  powerfully  written  little 
book—**  The  Dance  of  Death,"  let  my  name  be  enrolled." 

Geo.  T.  BRoaiLEY,  the  California  humorist  and  lecturer,  writes: 

♦'I  have  been  deeply  interested  in  your  forthcoming  work— "The  Dance  of 
Death,"  and  the  impression  left  upon  my  mind  after  its  perusal  was,  that  as  a 
restraining  influence  in  this  fast  age.  the  book  should  be  in  the  possession  of 
every  parent,  and  earnestly  read  by  all  who  have  an  interest  in  the  moral  welfare 
of  the  present  generation  as  well  as  that  to  come," 

A  prominent  member  of  the  California  Theatre  Company,  writes: 

"  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  your  volume  will  have  a  very  large  circulation,  and 
that  its  opinions  will  sink  deeply  into  the  minds  of  those  to  whom  it  is  add  ressed. " 

Mr.  Charles  A.  Mokse,  a  naval  gentleman,  well-known  in  Cal.,  writes: 

"I  must  say  I  have  an  admiration  for  the  author  who  has  the  boldness  and  in- 
dependence to  probe  so  popular  and  fashionable  a  moral  ulcer,  and  express  his 
ideas  and  convictions  in  good  old  Saxon,  without  half  concealing  them  in  gener- 
alities, for  fear  of  offending  the  sensitive  reader.  *  *  *  In  my  judgment,  these 
are  truths  to  which  we  must  not  close  our  eyes,  and  they  are  here  presented  with 
an  earnestness  of  expression  that  carries  conviction  of  the  author's  sincerity  of 
purpose.    It  must  work  a  great  good  in  time." 

J.  F.  Ryder,  of  Cleveland,  Ohio,  writes  : 

"I  am  in  sympathy  with  ^ou  on  the  "waltz"  subject.  I  have  always  pro- 
claimed against  the  impropriety  of  so  much  ardent  hugging  on  short  acquaint- 
ance as  the  customary  waltz  admits  of.    Your  shaking  up  of  it  is  powerful." 

Mr.  J.  S.  Jones,  a  well-known  merchant  of  San  Francisco,  writes  : 
"You  have  photographed  the  ball-room  correctly." 

C.  W.  M.  Smith,  a  lawyer  of  San  Francisco,  writes  : 

Your  work  "has  opened  up  to  my  mind  new  fields  of  thought  which  it  would 
not  be  wise  or  prudent  to  ignore.  The  proofs  therein  contained  of  the  lascivious 
thoughts  and  actions  incident  to  participation  in  the  round  dances,  should  load 
us  to  sincerely  consider  whether  or  not  we  should  permit  our  wives  and  daugh- 
ters to  share  in  them." 

A  lady  of  high  social  standing  in  Washington,  D.  C,  writes  : 

"  I  admit  that  you  represent  a  certain  class  in  a  truthful  light.  The  waltz  i» 
a  temptation  to  grow  old  in  sin,  and  should  be  avoided." 

8.  D.  Stevens,  of  San  Francisco,  writes  : 

"  When  we  come  to  look  back  to  what  we  know  ourselves,  we  must  admit  that 
you  have  not  overdrawn  the  picture.  It  is  a  book  that  from  its  very  boldness 
will  be  eagerly  sought  for  and  read,  and  cannot  help  but  do  much  good.  Many 
will  condemn  it  who  fear  the  truth  ;  so  much  the  better,  for  they  show  their 
colors,  or  ignorance  of  the  subject  treated." 

Bracebridge  Hemykg  ( •'  Jack  Harkaway,")  writes  : 

"You  have  brought  to  bear  long  study  and  deep  research— not  sparing  the 
knife,  in  laying  bare  this  excresence  on  the  body  social."  ^ 

G.  H.  LooMis,  a  journalist  and  artist,  writes  from  East  Cambridge,  Mass.  : 
"  No  doubt  these  things  are  true       *       ♦       »       i  shall,  with  many  others,  re- 
joice when  cause  and  consequences  are  as  apparent  to  others  that  ought  to  know 
and  comprehend  as  they  are  to  you." 


AND     EXTRACTS. 

Says  Henry  L.  Chamberlaiu,  a  (gentleman  eminent  in  religions  circle«  tn 
San  Francisco  : 

"  I  do  not  think  you  have  exaggerated  the  dangers,  nor  spoken  too  plainly  of 
the  corrupting  influences  of  the  modern  waltz,  I  believe  the  book  will  do  good, 
and  cannot  see  how  it  can  do  any  harm." 

One  of  the  most  favorably  known  lawyers  in  San  Francisco,  writes  : 

"I  have  read  your  little  book  aloud  to  the  Principal  of  the  High  School  of  one 
of  our  neighboring  cities,  and  he  endorses  everything  I  say  when  I  declare  that 
you  have  done  a  good,  compared  with  which,  the  preachings  and  teachings  of 
the  ordinary  lifetime  of  ordinary  men  pass  into  insignificance.  What  can  I  say 
more  ?  *  *  *  In  regard  to  the  plainness  of  your  talk,  this  only  can  be 
said,  that  the  subject  admits  of  no  other  treatment." 

The  Kev.  Father  Accolti,  S.  J.,  an  eminent  Catholic  clergyman  of  San 

Francisco,  writes: 

"  Having  carefully  perused  your  excellent  book, '  The  Dance  of  Death,'  I  can- 
not forbear  expressing  my  full  approval  thereof,  and  I  cheerfully  endorse  every 
line  contained  therein,  *  *  *  Some  persons  may  think  that  you 

have  employed  colors  too  high  in  depicting  the  moral  dangers  of  the  fashionable 
dances  of  the  day.  But  if  those  who  practice  them  would  read  your  pagea 
with  an  unprejudiced  mind,  I  am  sure  they  would  ov/n,  at  least  within  their  own 
heart,  that  you  are  perfectly  right,  and  perhaps  would  confess  that  the  reality  is 
still  much  worse  than  its  portraiture.  You  have  opened,  dear  sir,  a  campaign 
against  a  public  evil." 

Another  Catholic  Clergyman  writes: 

"  I  am  full  of  admiration  for  your  bold,  learned,  and  irresistible  condemnation 
of  a  public  and  domestic  evil,  no  less  scandalous  and  ruinous  than  common  and 
attractive.  *  *  *  You  are  a  true  Seneca— stigmatizing  the 

most  corrupting,  widespread,  lascivious  practice  of  our  age.  I  am  glad  to  en- 
dorse every  word  of  your  valuable  work.  I  should  also  be  glad  if  your  work  were 
put  into  the  hands  of  every  father  and  mother.  As  for  boys  and  girls,  if  they  are 
Dad,  it  will  render  them  no  worse:  if  good,  it  will  open  their  eyes.  *        * 

The  Catholic  Church  has  long  since  anticipated  your  views,  and  through  her 
Bishops,  Pastors  and  Confessors,  condemned  these  demoralizing  evils,  and 
deterred  her  children  from  this  disorder— denouncing  them  with  the  severest 
penalties." 

The  same  reverend  father,  received  a  letter  from  a  lady  to  whom  he  had 
submitted  a  copy  ot  the  book  for  examination,  from  which  the  following  are 
extracts : 

"  I  agree^  with  this  same  William  Herman  in  all  he  says  concerning  this  mat- 
ter. He  will,  I  imagine,  be  more  readily  endorsed  by  those  of  his  own  sex  than 
by  those  of  mine.  We  are  not  apt  to  admit  that  it  is  possible  to  sin,  when  we 
MAY  only  be  the  innocent  cause  of  others  sinning.  Better  a  thousand  times 
that  our  children's  eyes  should  be  opened  by  the  truths  contained  in  the  book, 
than  that  their  soul's  honor  should  be  sullied." 

George' Howard,  a  gentleman  well  known  in  San  Francisco  as  President 
of  the  Knights  of  Pythias  Library  Association,  writes: 

"  I  am  .convinced  that  it  Is  a  work  that  is  much  needed.         •  »  • 

I  have  often  watched  the  lascivious  dances  you  have  so  ably  described,  and  baviajt 
resided  for  several  years  in  the  Hawaiian  Islands,  I  am  thoroughly  convinced 
that  the  Hulihula  of  the  natives  is  not  half  so  demoralising  in  its  effect  as  tlu> 
modern  walte." 


LETTERS 

Major  A.  F.  Bbkdeb,  of  San  Francigco,  writes: 

•*  I  have  never  been  a  dancer,  and  did  not  know  that  such  effects  as  you  desorib  e 
could  result  from  what  has  always  seemed  to  me  a  harmless  amusement:  but 
Hince  the  book  has  become  a  subject  of  conversation,  I  have  heard  enough  to 
convince  me  that  it  has  not  appeared  at  all  too  soon.  I  think  that  parents  can- 
not enough  recommend  the  courage  that  has  enabled  you  to  oppose  in  so  public  a 
way  an  evil  of  such  proportions." 

A  lady,  well  known  in  the  best  society  of  Santa  Barbara,  writes: 
"  You  have  fully,  completely  and  artistically  expressed  my  opinions  and  ex- 
perience.   Your  choice,  yet  plain,  language  leaves  no  room  for  misinterpretation, 
and  I  can  only  add,  I  trust  the  work  will  reach  the  wide  circulation  it  so  richly 
merits." 

Mr.  W.  T.  Carlton,  of  Hess'  Grand  English  Opera  Troupe,  says: 
"  I  can  only  record  my  entire  concurrence  in  your  views.    All  who  read  'The 
Dance  of  Death  '  should  first  carefully  familiarize  themselves  with  the  preface 
and  should  they  then  censure  the  author,  their  objections  will  surely  be  based 
upon  vicious  bigotry  or  a  wilful  blindness  to  the  truths  expounded." 

An  Artist,  of  San  Francisco,  says: 

'*  I  admire  the  boldness  with  which  you  have  attacked  this  vice,  and  commend 
the  language  you  have  used.  *  *  *  Every  good  man  and  woman  should 
read  your  book  and  thank  you  as  I  do."  ' 

Mr.  Joseph  Brown  Ex-mayor  of  St.  Louis  writes: 

"It  is  a  shame  that  society  countenances  such  things,  and  it  is  more  responsi- 
ble for  the  ruin  that  grows  out  of  it  than  the  victim.  Your  little  gem  of  a  book 
should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  mother  who  has  children  growing  up." 

Mr.  Edwabd  Wilson,  of  the  firm  of  Wilson  &  Adams,  Philadelphia,  writes: 

"  I  have  a  copy  of  your  remarkable  book.  I  began  reading  it  the  evening  it 
came,  and  did  not  go  to  bed  until  I  had  finished  it,  for  it  was  most  fascinating. 
I  fear  I  shall  be  a  poor  critic,  however,  for  I  do  so  entirely  agree  with  you.  I  am 
sure  you  are  right,  and  if  the  book  is  as  widespread  as  it  should  be,  there  will  be 
many  to  thank  you.  for  it  will  awaken  the  guilty  to  a  sense  of  the  evil  they  are 
cultivating  and  make  them  'hold  on.'  I  think  you  have  most  graphically  de- 
tailed the  norrors  of  one  of  the  most  citing  evils." 

A  surgeon  in  the  navy,  writes : 

"I  have  read  "  The  Dance  of  Death  "  with  unusual  interest,  on  account  of  its 
merits.     The  subject  is  graphically  treated,  with  a  commendable  terseness. 
*    *    *    It  forces  the  attention  alike  of  those  who  approve  and  oppose." 

Dr.  J.  C.  Tucker,  of  San  Francisco,  writes: 

*•  Many  young  (and  old) '  Society  men  '  have  admitted  to  me  their  knowledge, 
'  from  others,'  of  the  bestial  horror  you  so  boldly  war  against.  I  trust  your 
righteous  crusade  against  this  fearful  moral  iniquity  may  prevail." 

General  Lucius  H.  FooTE,  of  San  Francisco,  writes: 

"I  have  read  and  re-read  'The  Dance  of  Death:'  it  is  a  remarkable  book; 
written  with  a  wonderful  vigor,  and.  more  than  all,  it  is  the  naked  truth.  You 
have  unc9vered  a  hissing  serpent,  and  it  will  do  good.  I  predict  that  men  and 
women  will  read  it  and  stand  aghast.  Yoa  have  shown  admirable  courage  in 
attacking  the  dragon  singly  and  alone,  but  thousands  will  rally  to  your  support.  , 
*Let  the  galled  jade  wince,'  you  will  De  sustained." 

Prof.  Alonzo  Phelps,  A.  M.,  of  Boston,  Mass.,  writes: 

*'  It  is  a  masterly  production,  and  cannot  fai  I  in  its  laudable  and  worthy  pur 
pose  and  endeavor— to  redeem  society  from  a  degrading  social  indulgence." 


AND    EXIRACTS. 

E.  D.  Farn8"wokth,  a  very  prominent  Odd  Fellow,  writes: 

"The  bold  and  fearless  manner  in  which  you  have  handled  the  subject  should 
entitle  you  to  the  gratitude  of  all  parents.  *  *  *  I  have  no 

word  of  censure  to  express,  but  would  say  to  all:  read  'The  Dance  of  Death,' 
and  answer  for  yourselves  as  to  its  justness.  The  preface  should  be  assurance 
that  you  have  endeavored  to  deal  fairly  with  the  subject,  and  without  condem- 
natioQ  of  the  innocent." 

A  well-known  naval  officer,  after  bestowing  praise  which  I  do  not  care  to 

repeat  upon  the  book  as  a  literary  production,  goes  on  to  say: 

"  And  as  for  the  matter  of  the  book,  the  author  deserves  yet  higher  praise,  for 
he  says  a  truth  that  should  be  told,  but  which  few  dare  tell." 

H.  M.  BoswoRTH,  of  San  Francisco,  writes  : 

"  Of  the  subject,  as  you  have  experienced  it,  I  know  nothing;  but  as  one  of  the 
most  immaculate  women  of  my  acquaintance,  who  knows  something  of  ball- 
room annoyances,  says  'Ameril'  to  the  book,  I  can  safely  say  I  think  you  are 
ri{rht." 

J.  H.  FiTZGiBBON,  a  prominent  business  man  of  St.  Louis,  writes: 

"  There  is  a  moral  to  be  drawn  f rcttn  it— never  let  your  wife  or  daughters  in- 
dulge in  round  dances,  for  thisis  the  road  to  perdition.  *  *  *  It  is  a 
book  that  should  be  in  every  well  regulated  family." 


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